Such Great Heights
by Maxie Kay
Summary: Kensi and Deeks are finally married, but they come back from honeymoon to discover a dead body that has a very personal connection. And that's only the begining. Slight x-over with NCIS. 9th installment in my K/D universe.
1. Chapter 1

**Such Great Heights**

**An NCIS: Los Angles Fanfiction**

**By**

**Maxie Kay**

_This is the ninth story in my K/D universe, which I describe as slightly AU. While each story can be read on its own, there is a continuing storyline. The series starts with __**Personal Questions**__ and the themes originally disclosed in that story are developed in each of the subsequent ones. This story begins immediately after __**Slipping Through My Fingers **__ends…_

_Full details of all my NCIS: Los Angeles stories and the reading order can be found on my profile page._

* * *

><p>"Only you could get shot three times, and end up with just flesh wounds." Tony said jovially, and helped himself to another bunch of grapes.<p>

"Sorry to disappoint you. I'll try to do better next time." Tim shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He still couldn't quite believe his luck, for although the wounds had bled copiously and required a blood transfusion, no bones were shattered, and no major organs had been shredded. It was little sort of a miracle, the doctors said. "And flesh wounds or not, they still hurt." And that was putting it mildly. His shoulder felt like someone was twisting a red-hot poker into it and his thigh felt like it had swollen up to at least twice its normal size.

"They're scratches, Timmy-boy. Suck it up like a man. We've got a wedding to go to the day after tomorrow. I hired you a suit, by the way." He strolled over to the window and stared out. "Nice view of the parking lot."

"I'm not exactly bothered about that right now, Tony. Anyway, they're discharging me this afternoon."

"So Gibbs said. You should see him, by the way. You'd think it was his daughter who was getting married the way he's acting. Just thank your lucky stars he's staying at the hotel with Kensi and her mom tonight." What with McGee's shooting, his duties as honorary father of the bride and the burgeoning relationship with Allison Blye even the normally unflappable Leroy Jethro Gibbs was somewhat less than his normal phlegmatic self. While it might be a slight exaggeration to say he was jittery, he was certainly on edge and DiNozzo had steered a careful course over the past few days, exercising considerably more tact that most people gave him credit for. It hadn't actually been too difficult, given how shaken up he was by the shooting. That sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen to McGee.

"Why?" Tim had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"Because you're coming back to Malibu with me. Well, back to Deeks' house. There's plenty of room. And you can't go stay in some hotel room by yourself. What if you needed something in the night?"

"And you'd be rushing to my bedside? I don't think so, Tony." He needed time to come to terms with what had happened – time and space. And that wasn't likely to happen with Tony around. DiNozzo might be many things, and he was proving to be a real friend, possibly the best friend McGee had, but no-one in their right mind could call him restful.

DiNozzo kept staring out of the window, careful to kept his back turned, and shook his head sadly. "You gave me a hell of a shock there. Finding you lying in the road like that, with Gibbs just about holding it together. Just about holding you together too." The memory was still fresh enough to be horrific. Once you'd seen your partner shot and killed right before your eyes, you never forgot it, and even if Tim was well enough to be sitting up in bed, diNozzo was still trying to come to terms with things.

"I can't remember anything about the shooting." Tim turned his head towards the window and felt the warmth of the sun on his face. "One minute I was walking back to the Mission with coffee and cakes and then the next thing I woke up in here, only to be told it was a whole day later." Those missing hours were enigmatically out of focus, vaguely floating around somewhere in his subconscious, but always just out of reach. The doctors had told him he might never get those missing hours back and had tried to console him that this was common with head injuries, but Tim refused to accept that. He was sure there was a clue somewhere – if only he could remember.

"We put an APB out immediately. They're still looking, but so far – _nada_." And that was bugging Tony. He needed to get these guys, get them for what they had done to McGee. "Anyway, you're coming with me. No arguments. Or I'll get Ziva in here."

"I can manage," Tim said wearily. "It's no big deal. And I've got to get used to this."

Tony strode across the room and gripped him by the shoulders. "Tim – I know you hit your head really hard, but would you stop talking nonsense? Until your sight comes back, you're going to need someone around – just to give you a hand. And that someone's going to be me. Whether you like it or not."

Tim brushed the hands away. "Don't kid yourself, Tony. You heard what the doctor said – with this kind of injury, I might be blind for the rest of my life. And I need time to come to terms with that. Time by myself," he added firmly_. Just leave me alone, will you Tony? Can't you see I want to be alone?_

"Okay – you're stubborn. I can do stubborn. Want to see me do stubborn? Scrub that – want to hear me do stubborn? And don't even get me started on Ziva, because she can do stubborn in half a dozen different languages." _There's no way you're going to do a Greta Garbo on me, McGee, no way at all. If I've got to bring Abby across to LA to talk some sense into you, than that's what I'll do._

"I give up." He leant back against the pillows. "I'll come back to Malibu with you, but only because I've got this killer headache and you're making it worse."

"Look on the bright side – at least you won't be getting any more head-slaps from Gibbs. That has to be worth something, right?"

"You really know how to cheer a guy up. That makes it all worthwhile. Anyway – it's you he slaps, not me."

There was a long pause before DiNozzo found his voice. "Tim? I really am sorry. You know that, right?"

"I know that, Tony." For the first time, Tim was glad he was blind, because he did not think he could bear to see the look on his friend's face when he said that. Just hearing the anguish in Tony's voice was bad enough. _Don't feel sorry for me, Tony. I don't think I can cope with sympathy right now – not from you at any rate. _

"Anything I can do – anything at all – you just let me know. Because I'll do anything." For a rare moment, DiNozzo let his mask slip. There was no laughter in his voice, there was nothing but devastation and the utmost sincerity.

"Tony, if there was anything anyone could do, you'd be the first person I'd ask."

It was cold comfort, but it was comfort of a sort, and that was better than nothing. The two men sat silently, not saying a word because in truth what could be said? Tim was blind and while it might be temporary, it was still devastating and he was working through it with immense courage and fortitude. The least that DiNozzo could do was to be there for him. So that was what he would do – he would be there.

* * *

><p>"This is the last night I'll spend here as a single woman," Kensi thought as she looked around the entrance hall and remembered the very first time she'd set foot in this house. Back then it had seemed huge and imposing, and yet it also had the feeling of being a family home that had merely been sleeping for a while, and was just waiting for its owners to return. And in a couple of days' time, it would be her house… it hardly seemed possible.<p>

"You think you can be happy here?" Jack wandered out of the library, a glass of whiskey in his hand and looking almost as if he had never left, as if the intervening twenty years had never happened.

"I already am." Kensi grinned at him, taking in the flushed appearance. "I take it you had a good game of tennis?"

"Last time we played, he could barely hit the ball across the net – now he can run rings round me. Guess I'm getting old."

"Or I'm getting better?" Marty appeared behind his father. "Ever think of that? And I wasn't that bad when I was a kid."

"You were terrible," his father informed him. "Half the time you missed the ball completely, the rest of the time you hit it out of the court."

"So that's why you took up sports that don't require hand-eye co-ordination?" Kensi asked sweetly. "I knew there had to be a reason."

"I'm a decent shot – you've got to give me that." And then Marty cringed, remembering sitting on the floor of the library and levelling a revolver at his father and being so damned terrified he nearly peed his pants. He could almost feel the way the recoil of the gun reverberated through his whole body, pushing him back against the desk.

"You're okay – I guess." Kensi saw how ashen he had gone and knew exactly what he was thinking. There was always going to be that huge elephant in the room after all. She turned to Jack, desperate to move away from the bad memories. "How about we take you and Rowena on at mixed doubles tomorrow?"

"Or we could make it very interesting and do girls against boys?" There was an evil glint in Jack's eye that Kensi instantly found recognisable, being only too accustomed to seeing and identical look on his son's face. The apple really didn't fall very far from the tree it seemed.

"Sure – if you don't mind having your asses whupped. Of course, Marty's used to it by now."

Jack patted her on the shoulder. "I can see why he fell in love with you. Sparky as hell. And beautiful into the bargain."

"And stubborn. Don't forget stubborn," Marty urged.

Kensi turned around and smacked him on the arm. "And you're not stubborn?"

"I'm tenacious. That's different."

"You keep telling yourself that, son. Maybe one day you'll even believe it."

"What is this – gang up on Deeks day?" Muttering under his breath, Marty wandered off in search of Bobby. Moments later, he reappeared, clutching the dog to his chest. "What the hell happened here?"

"Doesn't he look cute? And don't complain, because you knew the groomer was coming over. I think she's done a great job - you can see his eyes now. And he doesn't smell." That was a major plus, especially as Bobby had a nasty habit of getting into bed with them at the most inopportune moments.

"He's practically scalped. What did they do – shave him or something?" Marty held his pet out at arms' length and surveyed the damage, while Bobby wagged his tail apologetically and then licked his face for good measure.

"Maybe you could take a leaf out of his book?" Jack suggested.

"Enough with the remarks about the hair. I've seen the photographic evidence and you weren't much better. Any way, it's different for dogs. The breed standard is for long hair – or fur. Whatever."

"Just for the record, everyone had bad hair in the seventies. So what's your excuse?"

"None. Because I've got great hair, Dad. And anyway, I've got an appointment with the barber for Saturday morning. I'll be nicely shaven and shorn for the wedding, don't you worry."

"Don't get it cut too short," Kensi cautioned. "No going over board and getting a modified Marine buzzcut like Callen. I'd like some wedding photos we can actually show to people, not lock away in cupboard."

Marty contemplated suggesting that he could act as adviser on her hairstyle, just to be fair and equitable, but decided he really rather wanted to continue living and breathing in one piece. "You want to write down instructions or something? Just to make sure I get _my_ hair done the way _you_ want it? Because we wouldn't want the photos too look bad, would we?"

Either Kensi was immune to sarcasm, or she'd decided to ignore it. "That's actually a really great idea."

"Let me guess - not too long and not too short, right? That's as clear as mud. He'll have no problem following that. How about you give me some photos to take along?"

"Now you're just being stupid." Kensi stalked off to make sure McGee's room was ready for his return.

"Never joke about wedding photos, kid. Never." Jack patted his son consolingly on the shoulder. "And next time – just elope. It's a hell of a lot easier."

"Yeah – but the danger is you end up looking like Brittney Spears in Vegas. Now those really were bad wedding photos." Marty was beginning to realise that when it came to the wedding, he really would just have to learn to keep his mouth shut, because there was no way his personal preferences could even begin to compete with the dreams that were populating Kensi's head. When defeat was inevitable, sometimes you just had to go along with a smile. If nothing else, at least it confused the enemy.

* * *

><p><em>I refused to let evil plot bunny have his wicked way with McGee. Even I am not that heartless.<em>

_Expect the wedding in the next couple of chapters!_


	2. Chapter 2

Tony put down his spoon and leaned back in his chair in an attitude highly suggestive of one who has eaten too much. "Caroline is a great cook. I don't suppose there's any chance I could lure her over to Washington?"

"Not a chance." Kensi waggled her own spoon at him. "So don't even bother suggesting it. There's no way she'd move away from her golden boy here."

"So she's got good taste?" Marty was too full to even attempt to rise to the bait.

"Caroline is slightly biased where this one's concerned," Jack confided in a whisper to Tim. "Thinks the sun shines out of his eyes. Not that she would ever admit it, of course." He felt much the same way and was still finding it hard to believe that his son had turned out to be so well-adjusted after all the chaos of his earlier years. Jack knew he owed Caroline and Joe a huge debt for providing stability and love in Marty's life – something he had been unable to give his son. No matter what happened now, there was no way he could ever recover all those missing years, during which time his son grew from a little boy, first into a teenager and then finally into a man.

"I've got a grandmother who is pretty much the same." Penelope at least could be counted upon to be supportive and practical when he finally broke the news to his family, Tim thought. His mother would be weakly ineffective, as per normal, his sister stunned and his father distantly shocked – with the emphasis on distant. But Penelope would be her normal self. There were some things you could always count on.

"One last day of freedom then?" Ziva asked. "Any plans?"

Kensi shrugged. "Nothing much. Just some packing for the honeymoon."

Tony's ears pricked up at that. "And you're still not telling us where you're going?"

"No way. And it's traditional that you don't know."

"Since when have you bothered with tradition?"

Marty shrugged. "Since Kensi told me she'd kill me if I told you."

"Why do you want to know?" Ziva asked. "Are you looking for ideas for our own honeymoon?" She managed to look completely innocent, but she didn't fool Tony for an instant. And actually, it didn't seem such a bad idea. In fact, the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Now, if only he could be sure she would say 'yes'…

* * *

><p>"Our last night together before the wedding." Kensi stretched out in the water luxuriously.<p>

"You don't have to stay in the hotel tomorrow. Not really." There was still a chance he could get her to change her mind, Marty thought. Not a great chance, but a chance nevertheless.

"Oh yes I do. Tradition – remember?"

"This is beginning to sound a bit like _Fiddler on the Roof_," he complained.

"Only you really are a rich man."

"Aren't you glad I don't look anything like Topol?"

"Inordinately. But if you ever let that face fuzz grow any longer, I'll hold you down and shave you myself."

"That could work for me." Marty leant back and pulled Kensi close. "You want to give it a try?"

"No – because I've got something much better in mind."

"Okay – I'm officially interested. You want to share?"

"Well, we've got that candle over there – so how about some waxing?"

"Sadist." Marty thought for a moment. "How about I sneak over tomorrow night? Throw some stones up at your window and then climb up?"

Kensi was disturbing quick to pour cold water on that bright idea. "I'm sharing a room with Nell. Mom is going to be on one side of me, and Grandma on the other." _Besides which, you'd probably manage to break both your legs. And that really would ruin the wedding photographs._

"Please tell me your Mom isn't sharing a room with Gibbs?" he pleaded. It was one thing having his father exchange meaningful looks with Rowena, but quite another to even contemplate Gibbs making sheep's eyes at Allison. And Marty was definitely not going to contemplate anything more than that.

"Don't even go there. I'm carefully avoiding the whole subject." By way of changing the subject, Kensi dove underneath the water and then swam to the edge of the pool. "Oh my God, McGee – you nearly frightened the life out of me!"

"Sorry – I couldn't sleep and I came out for some air."

"Better hold it right there, because the pools about four feet ahead." Marty quickly hauled himself out of the water and took hold of McGee's arm, shaking his head at Kensi, who was making frantic gestures towards the towels. "Blind – remember?" he mouthed, and saw the look of relief on her face.

"You're skinny dipping, aren't you?" Blind or not, McGee was not immune to the tension in the air.

"Kensi is. She's a terrible exhibitionist."

"Don't believe a word he says, Tim." Kensi wrapped the towel around herself and padded towards them. "He's the one that goes around commando half the time."

McGee took a deep breath. "Listen – I just wanted to come down here to thank you guys for inviting me over here – and to the wedding. But I've booked myself on a plane back home tomorrow. I've got to start getting on with my life again. And that means going to see my parents first of all." He'd been insistent that the elder McGee's should not be contacted. This was something he had to do in person.

"And after that?" It was clear the man's mind was made up, Marty thought, and he did have a very good point. Plus, he could see that having to put on a brave act and pretend to be enjoying himself would get to be a bit of a strain after a while.

"That's all pretty open, at the moment. There's this new book I'd started writing, and once I get some voice recognition software, then there's nothing holding me back." And he had a dozen storylines buzzing around in his head, just begging to be written down. All Tim needed was the time and the space and the inclination to put his words down onto paper. Plus a voice recognition programme. Apart from that, the world was his oyster.

"Please tell me we are not going to appear in your story, Tim. Please?" Kensi wasn't above begging. She'd read his earlier novels and recognised Tommy and Lisa only too clearly.

"I don't know – it could be kind of cool. As long as I'm incredibly brave and handsome and all the girls fall in love with me." Tim could imagine Marty standing there, preening himself and Kensi smiling at him… sometimes you didn't need vision to see what was right in front of you.

"I was thinking more about having you and Agent Tommy caught with your pants down," McGee said wickedly. "Sort of art imitating life."

"That screen grab made it all the way back to Washington, did it?" Marty asked wryly. He was probably never going to live down the fact that he and Tony had been grabbed at gunpoint, while wearing next to nothing. But at least he'd had a pair of briefs to cover his embarrassment , while Tony had absolutely nothing shielding the DiNozzo family jewels from public scrutiny.

"Oh yes. To Washington and beyond. I doubt there's a NCIS office that didn't get a copy. And if there are ever any plans to make a calendar of NCIS hunks, you're pretty much a dead cert for the cover."

"Going to miss you, McGee. Good luck." He placed his hand in McGee's and felt the firm grip. "You take care – and look us up if you're ever back in LA."

"All the best to you and Kensi. You guys deserve to be happy."

Marty wandered slowly back up to the house, following the line of wet footprints left by Kensi, leaving a man staring sightlessly at the sky and wondering where life was going to take him next. It was strange, but Tim felt no apprehension, just a good deal of excitement. He was free to follow his own dreams at last, with no great burden of expectation placed upon him and that felt incredibly liberating. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all?

* * *

><p>"Just once more. You almost had it that time." Kensi gave her most beguiling smile and Marty felt his heart sink into his shoes. His brand new shoes, which were starting to pinch. At the piano, Nico put one hand to her aching back and got ready to start playing the music for the first dance all over again – for the eighth time in succession. She was beginning to hate this tune,<p>

"This is about as god as it gets," Marty confessed, acutely aware that Kensi was propelling him in the desired direction and that he was lagging at least half a beat behind the music.

"You'll be fine," she said airily and then did something complex that caught him completely unawares. "And keep your head up. You're supposed to look at me, not at your feet. And try not to look too miserable. This is meant to be fun." _And romantic. Who am I kidding?_

_Okay – so I'm supposed to do complicated dance movements, __not __look down __and__ smile lovingly, and all in time to the music? Like tha's going to happen. _"It's alright for you – you're going to be wearing a long dress and no-one will see your feet."

"Really?" Kensi did a quick fishtail that nearly had him sprawling on the floor. "And what makes you so sure about that?"

"Because you're a stickler for tradition?" A sudden memory of those dancing classes from years ago suddenly came back, and Marty pressed his hand firmly into Kensi's back and whirled her around in a dizzying spin.

"I might be putting a new twist into things" Kensi regained control and steered him in the right direction. "Maybe I've got one of those tear-away skirts, so that just as we begin to dance, you take hold of the train, I go into a spin and there I am, wearing a mini?"

"And at the same time your Grandma has a heart attack and slides off her chair?"

Kensi started to giggle. "Sam could revive her. Did you see the way she looked at him this morning? I reckon Denise has got her work cut out there. And when she told him he was 'tall, dark and handsome', I thought he was going to fall through the floor."

"That's it."

"What?" Kensi looked confused as Marty stopped dancing and put both hands around her waist.

"How I know I'm doing the right thing. Because when you laugh like that…" He stopped talking and demonstrated exactly how she made him feel.

"Excuse me? Pregnant lady at the piano here. You two want to stop reminding me how I got into this condition in the first place?" Nico closed the lid of the piano with a very decided movement. "Kensi – face facts: that last dance is as good as you are ever going to get. Just count yourself lucky you still have ten toes that you can see. Believe me, right now I'd give my eye teeth to say the same thing." She made an abortive move to get up from the piano stool. "Okay – you want to give me a hand here? God, I wish this baby would just decide to get itself born already."

"Not before tomorrow." Kensi took hold of her hands and heaved. "I absolutely forbid you to give birth before the first dance. Any time after that is fine. But just hold off until then. Cross your legs if you have to."

"I'm going to ignore that, because I know you're uptight about the wedding. And besides which, I haven't been able to cross my legs for months." Nico held her hand out. "Walk me back up to the house, Mikey?" Right now, she just wanted to go home and sleep for about a thousand years.

"I was joking!" Kensi called out.

"I know, honey." For once, Nico was glad to lean on her best friend's arm and practically let him drag her across the lawn. One thing was certain – this baby was definitely going to be an only child. NO way was she ever going through all this again.

Left alone, Kensi took one final look around the marquee, imagining how it would look tomorrow, although only the floral decorations and final touches were missing. Everything else was in place – all the tables and chairs, the dance floor, the sound equipment and the stage for the band. After all the long weeks of planning, things were finally coming together. It scarcely seemed possible, but this time tomorrow, she'd be married. Tomorrow she was about to make the biggest decision of her whole life, and it felt wonderful. Everything was going to be just perfect. And if it wasn't… no, she wasn't going to think about that. Absolutely not. What could possibly go wrong?

Humming under her breath, she walked back on to the dance floor and began to circle around, moving to the music only she could hear, .until a voice broke into her dream.

"It's not too late, you know. You don't have to do this." Kensi turned around with a start and saw her mother sitting in a chair, hands neatly clasped in her lap.

"I do, Mom. I totally have to marry Marty – because if I don't, I'll spend the rest of my life regretting it and being completely miserable without him. You see, I love him and I can't imagine life without him. I don't want to imagine life without him."

Allison smiled. "Just as long as you're sure. And as long as you know that whatever you do – I'll be there to support you. No questions asked." That was what a mother did, after all. Maybe when Kensi had a baby, she'd understand that.

"Thanks, Mom."

Kensi did a pirouette and Allison remembered a little girl at her fist dance recital and felt her eyes go misty. It seemed such a short time ago and now her little girl was a young woman preparing to get married. Where had all the years gone? "Just be happy, darling." After all, that was all that mattered.

"I already am, Mom." Kensi couldn't imagine ever being happier. The sun was shining as they returned to the house, which was more than could be said for her fiancé, who was on the phone and looking as if someone had just hit him in the stomach.

"I'm so sorry. And thank you for calling." He was being incredibly formal, Kensi thought. "I really am so very sorry." Marty looked down at the phone in his hand and ended the call with the same stunned expression still on his face. At his side, Nico was visibly upset and struggling to contain her tears as he put his arm around her and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry, everything's going to be alright."


	3. Chapter 3

"What's happened?" Kensi was tense with anxiety, certain that the telephone call had been to announce some dreadful news.

"You remember Tad? We went out to dinner with him last month when he was here on business?" Marty spoke in a monotone.

Kensi nodded: Tad was one of Marty's oldest friends, such an old friend that, like Nico, he was one of the few people who still referred to him as Mikey. The three had virtually grown up together, and the two boys had even gone on to the same law school. The only difference was that Tad had decided to keep practising law and was currently working in a New York firm. "He's still coming tomorrow, isn't he?" she asked, although something told her that missing the wedding was the least of Tad's problems.

"No, he's not." Marty felt as if someone had punched him in his gut. "He was shot this morning, in a drive-by shooting, on his way to the airport to fly out here. There didn't seem to be any reason – I guess he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He held out his hand to her. "Tad died two hours ago." It seemed like the end of an era, another part of his childhood consigned to the ashes of memory, just like his mother Maryanne, and his brother, Chris. Too many people he cared about had died.

Nico was weeping openly now and Kensi could see how stunned they both were, shaken to the core by the news. And despite working in a profession where death was part of the daily agenda, it still had the power to shock her, especially when it was the death of a young man, another innocent to be added to the long list of those who had gone before. And the worst thing was that she knew the list would only continue to grow. It felt as if a pall had been thrown over the bright day. First McGee was injured, possibly blinded for life, and now this. Kensi crossed her fingers and hoped there would not be a third tragedy.

* * *

><p>"I'm always slightly uneasy about these rehearsal dinners," Nate confessed, adjusting his tie in the mirror and wondering why his hair would never lie flat. "So many things can go wrong and everyone's nerves are on edge."<p>

"Why do you think we went out of state for our wedding?" Eric asked. "The last thing I wanted was for George to have to sit at a rehearsal dinner and listen to my work mates roast me, while I sat there with a false grin on my face and pretended it was all great fun." That was one of the reasons, but the main one had been the slight matter that he hadn't actually come out to anybody at work,

"And there's enough skeletons rattling around in both of their closets already." In fact, Nate thought that it was a good thing Deeks had that huge mansion to house the number of closets required to accommodate all the skeletons from his past, not to mention Kensi's. "They don't exactly need certain parts of the past brought up, do they?" Somethings were best forgotten about after all.

Eric was already mentally rewriting parts of his own tribute, which no longer seemed quite so funny in retrospect. "Good point." He looked at Nate. "How many times have you made this speech today? It must have taken you some time to get around everyone."

"Busted." Nate held up his hands meekly. He clearly wasn't as good at subterfuge as he'd thought. "We'll make an agent out of you yet, Eric."

"No thanks. Been there, done that, got a busted jaw and several broken teeth in the process." Eric knew he would never forget that day on Clark Mountain, and the way he'd been left swinging from a rope over an open void, knowing that the only thing that stood between himself and certain death was a few strands of high tensile nylon. "Hetty put you up to this, didn't she?" There were times when Hetty's protective instincts were as fierce as any mother tiger protecting her young, and this was clearly one of them.

"You might think that – I couldn't possibly say." Nate patted down his hair again and then watched as it sprang back into place almost immediately. "And can we expect any other video tributes?" They'd already spent a considerable amount of time already filming their own particular contribution to the evening's entertainment.

Eric smirked as he handed across a tub of hair product. "Try this. And that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Two could play at being sneaky, couldn't they? "All I can divulge at this moment is that there might – or might not be – some pictures." He'd made damned sure the shots of Deeks wearing those tight, black underpants were prominently featured, in addition to liaising with both Caroline and Allison to make sure suitably incriminating photographs from childhood were included.

Nate took a generous scoop of styling goo and began to run it through his hair. "And will this theoretical tribute be available to buy afterwards?"

"Twenty dollars should secure you a copy." Eric took a look at Nate's hair, which was now standing firmly on end, like a disgruntled hedgehog and handed a comb across. "You're really not into grooming, are you?"

Coming from a man who teamed plaid shirts with board shorts, Nate thought this was slightly disingenuous, but decided that for the sake of peace and harmony he would hold his tongue. For the time being.

* * *

><p>"I think that's everything." Kensi looked at the pile of luggage in the corner of the bedroom: overnight bag, vanity case, case containing her going away outfit, plus all the cases packed for the honeymoon.<p>

"It's about half your wardrobe" Marty said incredulously. His own contribution consisted of one medium-sized bag, that was totally obscured by the volume of Kensi's paraphenalia.

She looked at him in astonishment. "No it's not. It's all new. You can't go away on honeymoon with old clothes."

"Really?" _How come nobody had told me that? Or maybe arre were different rules for brides and grooms? It was probably just fine for the groom to take along a couple of pairs of old jeans and some t-shirts._ At least, he hoped it was.

"You are kidding me, right? You have packed some smart clothes – haven't you?" _For all those romantic dinners we'll be having. And so the photos look good._

"Of course I have," he lied smoothly. There would be time to repack tomorrow morning. They weren't getting married until three o'clock after all.

"And you are getting your hair cut tomorrow morning?" There was a note of tension in her voice.

Marty pulled out his cell phone. "You want to ring the barber and check?" he offered. _Thank God the wedding's tomorrow, because I don't think I can take much more of this._

"You needn't look at me like that – all innocent and aggrieved. I know you, Marty."

"And yet you're still marrying me." He flashed her a charming grin, one that normally had a devastating effect on 99% of the female population.

"There's still time to change my mind. Nothing's set in stone until I say 'I do'." The stern expression on Kensi's face faded away to be replaced by a radiant smile.

_I knew she wouldn't be able to resist that look. Better not push it though. These things can get old quickly and I never know when I'll need it next._

"This time tomorrow we'll be married – can you believe it?"

"Not really, no." Marty pulled her into an embrace, burying his face in her hair. "I still can't believe you said 'yes' in the first place."

"You caught me at a weak moment." Kensi turned her face to kiss him. "You caught me and you stopped me from falling. It was always you, right from the first moment we met. That's when I knew."

"Really? You could have let me in on the secret."

"What – and miss out on all the fun of the chase? All the to-ing and fro-ing, all the flirting?"

"That was flirting?" His hands had slipped down to cup her ass. "Maybe I should give you a few lessons sometime?"

"How about you wait till the honeymoon, when we've got no other distractions?" Kensi suddenly realised that time was passing and they had a wedding rehearsal to get through before meeting everyone at the restaurant for dinner. And once they'd got through the ritual humiliation that was bound to ensue, then tomorrow was the day – tomorrow they were finally getting married.

"That's a date." Marty let himself be pulled out of the house.

The wedding rehearsal actually went smoothly, mainly because it was just themselves; father John, who had this all down to a well-honed perfection; plus Jack, Regina, Allison and Gibbs – all of whom could be relied upon to behave like responsible adults. Caroline and Joe were there too, seated in the front pew, and watching with pride.

"He's taken long enough," Joe muttered. "I thought he was never going to get married."

Caroline prodded her elbow into his ribs. "He was just waiting for the right girl. And we're still young enough to dance tomorrow – so enough with the complaining." She thought back to the day she'd first met the young man who was now kneeling in front of the alter, listening intently as the priest explained the finer details of the ceremony. Where had all the years gone? It scarcely seemed possible that it had been thirty years since she'd held the tiny baby, looked into his wide, blue eyes and known that she had fallen hopelessly in love with him. She'd vowed to look after him that day, and she'd kept her promise. Only from tomorrow that responsibility would be Kensi's and Caroline felt a pang of regret. It was as if a door was shutting and the past was getting left behind. She couldn't have felt more emotional if it had been her felsh and blood son kneeling there, rather than the child of her heart.

"He'll still need you," Joe whispered, and his hand sought hers. "Nothing's going to change_." If things had worked out differently, perhaps it might have been our own son and his bride… But we got lucky – we got the next best thing._

"I hope so." Caroline blinked back the tears.

Joe squeezed her fingers encouragingly. "I know so." He just hoped that the bad luck that seemed to stalk the personal lives of the Brandel family would miss this particular member out. Marty had gone through more his thirty years than most people would manage to pack into two lifetimes, and he deserved to be happy. "Come on, wipe your eyes and put a smile on your face. Just think of all those photos you looked out and how surprised Marty's going to be when he sees them." Maybe surprised wasn't quite the right word, now he came to think about it. Shocked was probably more like it. Perhaps even horrified.

* * *

><p>Callen stood up and tapped a spoon against his wine glass. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now proud to present the moment you've all been waiting for. With a little help from our friends, we bring you: <em>Densi, The Musical<em>. Because mere words wouldn't possibly do justice." He sat down again, with a vast smirk as he clocked the shocked looked on both their faces. For possibly the first time in his life, Callen was profoundly grateful that there was no photographic record of the vast majority of his childhood

Kensi's jaw dropped as the lights went down and a large screen descended from the ceiling. "Did you know about this?" she hissed.

"Definitely not," Marty answered, with total sincerity as the familiar strains of _'My Guy'_ started, accompanied by a studio portrait of himself as a baby – lying on a fur rug and wearing nothing but a broad and gummy smile. Projected considerably larger than life-size onto a twenty foot wide screen. The room erupted into gales of laughter. "Did you?" he asked in a horrified undertone. _Thank you very much. I have to work with these people, you know._

"No. If I had, I would have arranged for a more up-to-date version." Kensi found a besotted smile creeping across her face as more photographs of Marty as a baby and then toddler appeared, with the familiar shaggy hair becoming more evident in each shot. It was also noticeable that he appeared to have a distinct aversion to clothes, and a correspondingly charming lack of coyness about presenting himself to the camera just as God had made him.

"We should count ourselves lucky Deeks has finally learned to keep his clothes on and only goes commando these days," Sam commented loudly.

"Speak for yourself," an elderly female voice heckled back and Allison Blye nearly fell off her chair.

"Mother!" she remonstrated, but to no avail.

"I might be old, but I'm not dead yet, Allison. Our Kensi's got good taste and she clearly gets it from me. And don't put on that prissy face with me, missy. I'm not the one whose baby was born six months after she got married, am I?" Satisfied that she had indeed had the last word on that particular subject, Mrs Cunningham sat back to enjoy the rest of the show, leaving her daughter and grand-daughter with matching red faces.

"We tried our best," Jack said apologetically. "The worst was the summer when he was obsessed with Batman and ran around wearing the cape and mask all the time." He paused for dramatic effect. "Just the cape and the mask." He grinned across at his son, who looked as if he wanted to dive underneath the table.

The next photograph that flashed onto the screen silenced the room. It was a simple shot, of a young Marty, who looked to be about four years, walking hand in hand with a small woman, her hair cut in a distinct bob. She was clearly saying something, and the child was listening intently, his small face turned up to hers.

"Would that he paid so much attention to me now," Hetty said mournfully.

"Maybe if you still held my hand, I would?" Marty suggested. He grinned as the next shot came up. "Or let me sit on your knee like I'm doing there?"

Even Hetty had to admit when she was beaten. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, she gave in with considerable grace.

Kensi sank down as low as possible in her own seat, dreading what was coming up next. She cast a despairing look at her mother, but Allison was carefully avoiding eye contact, which was not exactly reassuring.

* * *

><p><em>The plot bunnies have agreed to call a truce for the duration of the wedding, so have no fear!<em>

_of course, Kensi isn't about to be let off the hook quite so easily..._


	4. Chapter 4

Predictably enough, the montage finished with a series of shots showing Deeks in the now-infamous black underpants. At almost three times life-sized, it was more apparent than ever that they left absolutely nothing to the imagination. A veritable barrage of wolf-whistles filled the air, causing Hetty to place her hands over her ears in protest, although she was wreathed in smiles and didn't take her eyes off the screen for a second.

"If the day job doesn't work out, you can always moonlight as an underwear model!" Eric bellowed lustily.

Mrs Cunningham couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed herself quite so much. She was certainly going to have some interesting tales to tell the members of her quilting group when she got back home. It would be even better if she could get some screen shots as well. They would be pea-green with envy, for all their grandchildren had married rather boring and responsible people. At least Kensi's fiancé seemed to have a bit of life about him. And a bod from God, as the young people said. What she wouldn't give to be thirty years younger… because there was nothing wrong with embracing your inner cougar; nothing wrong at all. Where there was life, there was hope. And she was really enjoying life at the moment.

"Screw the day job!" Mrs Cunningham bawled and Allison wondered if her mother might be developing Alzheimers disease or even Tourette's syndrome. Still, after the earlier put-down, she decided it was wisest to keep quiet. She didn't want any more secrets to slip out tonight.

"Do not do a slow dance with that woman," Callen warned. "She'll eat you alive."

Marty just hoped that Kensi would be as lively when she reached her grandmother's age.

The heckling died down as the second part of the tribute began accompanied by the strains of _'Isn't She Lovely'_. Kensi began to think she might just get out of this lightly, as a selection of her cutest baby photos filled the screen. All right, she could have done without the one in the bath, but all in all, it was really fine. However, quite why her mother had then lost all sense and given a whole series of shots of Kensi exposing her bright white underpants under a variety of summer dresses was beyond her.

"So that's why you wear jeans all the time," Hetty observed.

"I thought Kensi would never learn to keep her legs together," Allison remarked and then wondered why everyone around her burst out into near-hysterical laughter. Except for Jethro, who merely turned puce and seemed to be digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand. It really was most peculiar.

"I am going to kill her," Kensi vowed and then nearly died as the dreaded photograph of herself with that awful pixie-cut was flashed up. "Definitely. And I know enough to do it without leaving a trace of evidence behind me. The perfect crime." She'd always maintained that she looked like a goblin with ringworm and seeing it at such magnification just reinforced it.

"There's no such thing as the perfect crime," Sam informed her, rather self-righteously.

"That's all you know. The perfect crime is the one nobody knows is a crime." She stuck her tongue out. "So yah boo, and suck to you."

The final scenes of her part of the tribute were just as humiliating as Marty's had been, perhaps slightly worse, as Eric had kindly donated surveillance footage of the time Kensi had chased down a female subject, with both of them landing in a shallow pool of water and slugging it out, soaking wet.

"Yeah! Catfight!"

"Hot girl on girl action."

"Wear a bra next time, Kensi."

"Are you mad? Don't wear a bra – ever."

"I am going to kill Eric as well," Kensi vowed, as she saw how the sodden dress clung to her body and left nothing to the imagination.

"Before or after you kill your mother?" Marty asked politely. Actually, he had thoroughly enjoyed that part of the tribute. He looked around and saw that his team-mates had some suspicious smirks on their faces. "I think we're being set up here, by the way. Look at them."

Kensi looked at them with narrowed eyes. And she didn't like what she saw. She had a bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

Sam stood up. "You think it's all over?" he asked. "Well – it is now."

The words 'Come On Densi' appeared on screen, accompanied by a thudding backing track that started pounding away. Eric had beavered away to digitally alter the original version of the song so that '_Come On Eileen'_ was now a personalised tribute. The camera zoned in on Callen, who was chanelling his inner Kensi, wearing a black silk sheath, a pair of almost comedically large false breasts and a long brown wig. He batted his eyelashes and beguiling and then simpered.

"Suits you!" Marty yelled, thinking that Callen actually made rather a good woman. However, he rapidly subsided when Sam appeared onscreen, wearing a plaid shirt, tight black underpants and with a mop of blond hair that almost completely obscured his eyes. He was clutching onto a surfboard with one hand, while the other hung on to Bobby's lead.

"Not quite so funny now, is it?" Kensis sniggered as Callen minced beguilingly across the screen, one hand on his hip, stopping only to hoik up one of his stockings rather inelegantly and managing to rip a large hole in it at the same time.

"It's Densi's Midnight Runners!" DiNozzo said delightedly, as Hetty, Eric, Nell and Nate all made an appearance as background dancers, Hetty in particular giving full rein to her inner funk, even if It wasn't Lady Gaga. The difference in height between herself and Nate made for particularly hilarious results when they were partnered together, as was intended.

"I never thought Hetty would be such a good sport," Caroline whispered, as Nate swung her round so enthusiastically that Hetty's feet actually left the ground.

"Oh, she has her moments," Joe replied.

Meanwhile, Callen as Kensi had sidled up to his onscreen beau and was running his hands through his hair, while Bobby danced around delightedly on his hind legs and then managed to put a large rip into Kensi's stockings.

The audience started clapping along in time to the music, stamping their feet and chorusing _"Come on, Densi, Ta-lu-ry-ay…"_ in unison as the onscreen Deeks tossed the surfboard away, nearly braining Nell in the process and swept his lover into a passionate embrace that nearly knocked Callen off his high heels. As it was, one falsie popped out the top of his dress. Ziva was weeping tears of sheer joy by the time the tribute ended.

"You do realise they are going to do something much, much worse for us?" Nico asked.

Callen picked up her hand and kissed it. "Which is why we're just going to get married quietly. If you'll marry me in the first place?"

She looked shocked. "Did you just say what I think you just said?" She'd never heard of pregnant women hearing strange voices, but anything was possible.

"I did." Callen hadn't planned this, but it just seemed perfect. And he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. "So – will you marry me?"

* * *

><p>"Well?" Kensi settled the veil on her hair and surveyed herself in the mirror. "How do I look?"<p>

Allison had to take a deep breath before she could reply. "You look absolutely beautiful, darling." It was true: her daughter was a shimmering vision in pale oyster-coloured silk, which accentuated her golden tan. Slim-fitting, the dress swept down to the floor in a smooth flourish. Kensi had always wanted to look like a fairy-tale princess and today she had achieved her dream.

"You're biased."

"Kensi, you are the most beautiful bride I've ever seen. And I know Marty is going to think so too." Allison put her hands on either side of her daughter's face and smiled. "And you look so happy." And that was the most important thing of all, the thing that gave Kensi an inner glow.

"I am happy. I know I should be nervous, but I'm not – I'm just excited." She kissed Allison. "You are happy for us, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. The more I see the two of you together, the more I realise how right you are for each other." It wasn't easy to admit, but Allison knew she'd made a bad misjudgement about Marty. He not only balanced her daughter and complemented her perfectly, but more importantly, he made Kensi happy. And that was all that mattered. "So – are you ready for the rest of your life to begin?"

"I'm ready." Kensi took hold of her mother's hand. "Let's go and get Gibbs and Nell and get this show on the road."

"You could call him Jethro, you know."

"No, actually I couldn't, Mom. But it's okay if you want to." It was her wedding day and Kensi just wanted everyone to be as happy as she was, so she probably wouldn't even mind if her mother and Gibbs danced together, and maybe even had a kiss. She was a big girl after all, and her mother had every right to lead her own life. And it wasn't that weird…

* * *

><p><em>Hope you enjoyed the rehearsal dinner shennanigans - I had a lot of fun writing them!<em>

_Wedding coming up next weekend! the plot bunnies are still planning on hopping up the aisle and i have no doubt evil pb will want to trip Deeks up and break his leg._


	5. Chapter 5

The engagement ring looked and felt strange on her right hand, but tradition decreed that the ring finger of her left hand should be bare. Besides which, she'd replace the diamond solitaire to its rightful position after the ceremony. Smoothing down her skirts, Kensi turned and took one final look in the mirror.

"The headdress isn't too much?" It was surprisingly heavy, but encased her in a heady floral scent.

"It's perfect," Allison said, for at least the tenth time. The coronet of lilies of the valley, orange blossom and gypsophlia was the perfect crowning touch on top of the loose curls that flowed down Kensi's back. "Marty isn't going to believe his eyes when he sees you walking down the aisle." Kensi had wanted to look as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale, and she had succeeded.

"You know all the right things to say, Mom." Her bouquet was on a table by the door, cradled in white tissue inside a white box, it was comprised of the same flowers as her headdress, accented by the dark glossy leaves of the orange blossom, the perfect finishing touch to her bridal outfit. Taking a deep breath, Kensi picked it up and walked through the door, ready to start the single most important journey of her life, the one that would culminate in walking up the aisle to where Marty would be waiting to take her hand so that they could be joined together forever. A myriad of tiny droplets of water, sprayed on the flowers to keep them fresh sparkled in the sunlight.

"Here we go." She smiled at Allison, and for the first time felt the butterfly flutter of nerves.

"The first day of the rest of your life. And it's going to be a wonderful life." Allison kissed her daughter, and thought back to the very first time she had done so – when Kensi had been a tiny, rumped baby, newly born and crying lustily at her arrival into the world. She could still see traces of that child from long-ago in the young woman who stood before her. How many times had she dreamt of this day in all the years that followed? Too many to count, but even in her wildest imaginings had Allison ever envisaged a more beautiful or happier bride. Her heart had never been filled with more love and pride than right now, even if the emotions were tinged with sadness.

"I wish you all the love in the world, darling." She walked slowly behind her daughter and briefly remembered her own wedding day, and all the hopes and dreams she had nursed as if it were only yesterday.

Gibbs and Nell were waiting for them at the foot of the elaborate staircase, along with the photographer.

"I might just be tempted to run away with the bride." Gibbs let out a low wolf whistle and then ran up the final few steps to meet them, before crooking his arm invitingly. "May I have the honour of escorting you?"

The ritual of photographing Kensi's last few moments as a single woman began and then Allison and Nell were carefully putting the veil down over her face, marking the beginning of her transition from Kensi Blye into Mrs Martin Deeks. Nothing was ever going to be the same again

"We'll see you at the church." Allison smiled bravely and hurried towards the waiting limousine, clutching a handkerchief in her hand and leaving Kensi alone with Gibbs.

"You sure about this?" He looked at her keenly.

"I'm sure."

"Because if you're not, it's not too late to change your mind."

"I'm absolutely certain."

Gibbs grinned, and looked suddenly boyish as he did so: boyish and incredibly handsome in his dark tailcoat. "Good. You're doing the right thing." He cleared his throat. "I hope you'll be as happy as Shannon and I were." It still wasn't easy to speak about her, not even after all this time, because Gibbs had never come to terms with her death and probably never would. She had been the only woman he had ever truly loved, the only one he had ever wanted, right from the moment they'd first met, waiting for a bus. It wasn't the most romantic of settings, but where was it written that love could spring up in the most unlikely places?

"I hope so too." Kensi's fingers tightened around his arm. "Thank you for saying that – and for agreeing to give me away." In the absence of her own father, it felt right to have a fellow Marine be the one to give her away. And the fact that her Dad and Gibbs had been friends just made it even more perfect. It was the next best thing to having her own father there.

"It's an honour and a pleasure." And if he shut his eyes for a moment, Gibbs could imagine that it was Kelly on his arm. "Thank you for giving me the privilege." It would be a bittersweet moment, walking her down the aisle, but one he would not have missed. If only it had been Kelly, then it would have been perfect. But Kensi and Kelly had played together as children, and in a way this felt as if it was meant, as if it was completing the circle.

It was nearly time. There was a pearl grey Rolls Royce waiting outside the hotel, bedecked in white ribbons and a driver in uniform holding open the door. As the staff leant out of the windows to watch, Kensi swept down the steps in suitably regal style and stepped into the car, settling her skirts carefully around her, as Gibbs got in on the other side and looked across.

"Are you ready?"

Kensi nodded, her heart in her mouth. This was like being a little girl again and coming downstairs on Christmas morning, full of expectation and anticipation.

"Your father would have been so proud of you." Gibbs would have like to say more, but he didn't quite trust his voice. Sitting beside him, looking so incredibly happy and with the veil softening her features, he looked at Kensi and felt like a father all over again. It was so easy to imagine it was Kelly that it almost tore his heart out of his chest.

* * *

><p>It was like looking at himself thirty years ago. That realisation stopped Jack in his tracks and he had to clear his throat several times before he could trust himself to speak.<p>

"I hope you gave the barber a really good tip." The perpetually mussed-up hair had been transformed into something altogether different, and the shorter cut made his son look younger than ever. "He really had his work cut out."

"Yeah, well I kind of reckoned that if I was going to have a haircut, I might as well go the whole hog and have a really good haircut." The last time his hair had been this short was when he was on the beat in LAPD. The moment he'd made detective had been the day Marty had let his hair do its own thing. Still, the trip to the barbers had been worth it. He threw his car keys down on the hall table and took a look at himself in the mirror. "I got my money's worth, didn't I?"

"You certainly did. And you're looking good, kid." Jack clapped him on the shoulder and then shook his own well-groomed head in disbelief. "And you had a shave into the bargain. Kensi's going to think she's marrying the wrong man."

"It'll grow back. The hair _and_ the beard."

"Or you could keep it like that?" Jack suggested mischievously, remembering the little boy who had resolutely refused to have scissors anywhere near his hair.

"No way. You can be the neat one in the family, Dad." A change was all very well, and Marty had no problem with pulling out all the stops today, but there were limits. And shaving everyday was such a waste of time that could be spent doing other things – like surfing or making love to Kensi. He had no doubt as to what was the better use of time. And that reminded him…

"I guess I'd better go and start getting ready." At the foot of the stairs, Marty paused and turned around. "You want to come keep me company, Dad? We could talk."

They still skirted around one another with the lingering awkwardness that a long separation brings, a separation made worse by the circumstances and the intervening deaths of Chris and Maryanne, and the knowledge that they while they might love one another, in reality they were still virtual strangers, tied together by memories and guilt.

"I'd like that." Jack stood a little straighter. There was still time. "I'd like that very much." There were things he had to say, things that he had put off for far too long. He walked up the stairs and was aware of Maryanne's portrait looking down on them, watching over them.

_I miss you, Maryanne. And I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you and our family. But Mikey turned out well, didn't he? I hope that you can see him today and you're as proud of him as I am._

Maryanne smiled down serenely, just as she always did.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, the wedding is getting closer, and evil plot bunny is safely shut up in the garden shed. As long as he doesn't attempt to burrow his way out to freedom everything should be just fine. I think...<em>


	6. Chapter 6

Marty was in the shower by the time Jack meandered in, having made a slight detour via his own room to pick up a bottle of whisky he'd brought for just this occasion. It was a rare single malt, from the year of Marty's birth, from a tiny distillery in the Highlands and had taken no small effort to track down. Like most men, Jack had never been good at saying what was in his heart and, as a father, he had relied upon demonstrating his love in practical ways such as spending time with both of his sons, hugging them and generally being involved in their lives. Only that had all imploded on him in the worst possible way and it had been impossible to talk about his activities for the CIA and the effect this was having on his psyche, even if he had wanted to bear his soul.

Jack's original involvement in covert activities had started when his younger son was threatened, and they had used this as leverage to recruit him. When Marty was then kidnapped, compliance had seemed the only way to guarantee the little boy would be safely returned. The intervening days had been taken up with complicated and time-consuming negotiations that started with initial agreement to recruitment, were followed by threats from the then Soviet Block, who sought to blackmail Jack into acting as a double agent had finally resulted in agreement from the CIA that he should work as a triple agent. And meanwhile, Marty was gone, with only a blurry video-tape of the child sobbing piteously and begging to come home as any proof that he was still alive.

The entire period had been a living purgatory for the whole family, from thirteen year old Chris, who felt guilty that he'd not been able to protect his baby brother, right up to Hetty, who felt that it was the initial feelers she had put out to Jack had resulted in such a cataclysmic chain of events. No matter that no-one could have predicted the outcome –the result was the same. But eventually Hetty had prevailed on her informal grouping of cross-border agents known as the Catena, or Chain, to help. They had managed to find the little boy and bring him home.

But the four year old that had returned to the house was an entirely different child from the happy, carefree and outgoing boy who had left. This child was traumatised and had withdrawn into himself; he was skinny, bruised and filthy and could barely talk at first. It had taken weeks before Marty started to recover and after a while, he seemed to have blotted the whole experience from his memory, as if a wet sponge had wiped away all traces of chalk from a board. No-one else who had lived through the dark days would ever forget them, but by tacit agreement, it was never spoken of again. If that was how Marty was able to heal and to move on, then nobody wished to jeopardise the process. And that had only been the beginning of things starting to go wrong. It was the precursor that first signalled the road to hell.

"I messed up. I totally screwed up." Jack stared out of the window and cursed his stupidity, the way he had made his family vulnerable and then his failure to protect them. His subsequent actions had only compounded the original error and made things ten times worse. His son had suffered God knows what and he was to blame.

"Don't beat yourself up, Dad." Marty knew exactly what his father was doing, because he'd inherited the same trait. It was something the Brandels specialised in – feeling guilty. And self-analysis just made things worse.

"I should have been there for you." Only when he had been released from prison, Jack had discovered that his son had moved on, was at college and seemed to be enjoying his new life. To have reappeared at that stage could have ruined everything. It seemed better for Marty that Gordon John Brandel should just stay in the background, almost forgotten. And the fact that he had dropped his first and last names to become Marty Deeks just seemed to confirm his decision. Mikey Brandel had tried to bury his past and what possible good could exhumation do?

"That would have been good. Only I don't know how I would have coped if you'd come back right after you left prison. I still had a bit of wild streak." His first year at college had been eventful, to say the least, as he threw off the traces of the past and set about re-inventing himself. It was only the calming presence of Nico and Tad that had tamed Marty's worst excesses.

"Which you've now traded in for a death-wish?" Jack shook his head. "Couldn't you have gone in for a safer profession – like bomb disposal or something?" He'd been drawn into the murky world of espionage by default, while his son seemed to positively embrace all the things that had so terrified his father. From the little he had been able to glean about Marty's activities for NCIS, even the hazardous job of being an undercover detective for LAPD seemed positively tame by comparisom. And, of course, being a Brandel, he'd not opted for the ordinary part of NCIS, but for the rather shadowy Office of Special Projects, which just appeared to be another way of saying 'extremely hazardous to health'.

"Or I could have stayed practising law and bored myself to death?" Marty suggested and looked at the whisky longingly. "Are we just supposed to stand here and look at that or are you actually going to offer me a drink?" this really wasn't the time or place to talk about career choices, was it?

"Are you sure you're old enough to drink legally?" Jack took another look at the neat hair and smoothly shaven face.

"Very funny. It's been a long time since anyone carded me." Marty took the glass his father handed to him, their fingers touching for the briefest moment possible, and took a sip. "This is amazing. Smooth and with that peaty taste." And it was going straight to his head.

"You keep the bottle. It's a present." Jack handed it across and saw his son recognise the significance of the label.

"Thanks, Dad. I'll think of you when I drink it." He was incredibly touched that his father would go to all that effort.

"Here's to you, Mikey." Jack raised his glass. "You're a remarkable young man and I'm very proud of you. And I love you very much." It wasn't easy to say, but then the really important things never were.

"I love you too Dad. I never stopped loving you." Blue eyes met blue eyes and locked in mutual understanding.

"Even if you didn't always like me very much?" Jack had to ask, even if he was dreading the answer.

"Even then." Marty had tried to deny that for a long time. He'd spent even longer trying to pretend that his father had never existed in the first place, even changing his name in attempt to reinvent himself. And although he was now definitely Marty Deeks, there was a part of him that would always be Michael Brandel. It might go some way to explaining how he was so good at maintaining a long-term undercover alias. He'd always been good at pretending, at putting up an elaborate smoke-screen. It had taken Kensi to break down those barriers and find her way through to the real man behind all the subterfuge.

"I missed you every single day. I thought about you every single day. And I still do." _You are the single most important person in my life. Once you become a parent, you never stop being a parent, no matter what. And I wasn't the sort of father I wanted to be. I let you down so badly. I could understand if you hated me, if you wanted nothing to do with me._

"We've been given a second chance." Not everyone was so lucky. This time last year, Marty had thought there was nobody in his life, and now he had a father, a great aunt and Kensi. Plus the rest of the NCIS team. "It's never too late."

Jack looked at his watch. "And talking of being late – I thought that was the bride's prerogative, not the groom's?"

"Crap." Marty made a dive for the wardrobe, and only just managed to hold onto the edges of the towel in the process.

"Make sure you remember to put on some underwear, son." You could never be too careful, Jack had found. Wherever possible, one really should be prepared for all eventualities.

"I wish Mom could have been here," Marty said, pulling on his pants. "Not that I don't think Rowena's not great, because she is, but… but just because I still miss Mom."

"So do I," Jack admitted. "I think I always will." He'd had it all and then he'd thrown it all away. But now he'd been given a second chance with his son and that was more precious than anything. "You look after her, Mikey. You look after Kensi, and love her and cherish her. And that way, you won't go far wrong. As long as you stay out of danger, that is."

His son grinned. "Not likely, Dad. Not in my line of work." _Here it comes: why don't you just resign and go and work for the family business? As if! Still, it shows he cares._

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to work at all, far less in something as risky as NCIS."

"I do. Because I'm out there making a difference. That's all I ever wanted to do." It really was as simple as that.

Jack watched as Marty buttoned up a pristinely white shirt and then tucked it in before fastening his belt. "You've made a difference since the day you were born. Your mother and I tried for a long time to have another baby after Chris, and when you arrived we were so happy. You were a blessing to us from that day onwards."

"Even when I was running around naked and frightening the hell out of all your guests?"

"Even then. Your mother loved you so much." And yet Maryanne had taken her own life and left their son alone. Jack could not bear to think what pain she must have been in. He finished off his drink and picked up the pale blue tie. "How about I help you with this – for old times' sake?" Like that song we sing at New Year in Scotland – for auld lang's syne.

"You never did show me how to tie a Windsor knot." Marty quirked his left eyebrow invitingly.

"It's never too late." Jack swatted him gently on the back of his head, taking care not to disturb the still-tidy hair. "I never taught you how to shave either – so maybe that's my fault too?" He stood behind his son and deftly knotted the tie, carefully creating the distinctive triangle that would allow the knot to stand out proud. Once finished, he patted Marty lightly on both shoulders in a gesture of completion.

"Or I could just be congenitally lazy?" Marty picked up his waistcoat and pulled it on. "Nearly ready now." For some unaccountable reason, his stomach was starting to churn. "Caroline's got my jacket downstairs, to put the buttonhole on. She seems to think I can't do anything properly," he complained half-heartedly.

"That's because she still thinks you're a little boy. There's just one thing." Jack unfastened his watch. "My father gave me this on my eighteenth birthday and I'd like you to have it."

It was a vintage Patek Philippe that Marty could remember Jack wearing on every single formal occasion of his childhood. "I can't take that. You love that watch, Dad," he protested.

"That's why I want you to have it. With my love. And because I wasn't there on your eighteenth birthday."

"You're here now." And, in the end, that was all that really mattered: the immediate present. The past was just that, unchanging and fixed in amber. But the future had still to be written and what you did in the present opened up a myriad of possibilities, if you were but brave enough to take up the challenge.

"I'm here," Jack agreed. He was here and he was about to watch his son take the biggest step of his young life and enter into a union for life. There was so much he had missed, but he was here today.

* * *

><p><em>Details about the history of the Brandel family can be found throughout this series. For more information about Jack's recruitment, Marty's childhood kidapping and how Hetty was involved, please see <strong>The Chain<strong>, where all is revealed._

_Okay - they're nearly ready now. Will Deeks be on time for once and arrive before Kensi? How will Callen and Sam cope with their duties as ushers and will Crosby behave himself during the ceremony? _  
><em>Keep tuned to find out all this and more... including the first dance.<em>


	7. Chapter 7

Rowena, Caroline and Joe were waiting for them downstairs in the hall, and they turned to look with approval as Marty came running down the stairs, followed by Jack at a rather more sedate pace, but with the same look of enthusiasm on his face.

"Very smart," Caroline said, and then reached up to smooth down his hair. "You really should make a bit more of an effort, Marty. You're really quite nice looking, when you take a little bit of trouble."

"She doesn't want you to get swollen-headed," Joe translated helpfully.

"No chance of that around here." Marty looked over to where Bobby lay in his basket, with a mistrusting expression on his furry face. "But you still love me, don't you? It doesn't matter to you if I brush my hair or not, does it?"

The dog merely looked at him, pulled his ears back in disgust and turned his hair to the wall. All the unusual activity around the house and grounds as caterers, florists and a myriad of other people rushed around doing final preparations was clearly putting him out of sorts. Plus, someone had removed his bone and confiscated it.

"Clearly it does," Jack said. "I don't think he recognised you."

"Just as well." Caroline's tone was uncompromisingly tart. "You can't go to your wedding covered in dog hair, can you?" She made vague tutting noises under her breath and then inculcated Marty into his jacket, tugging the sleeves down, making sure the lapels lay flat and finally smoothing the back of his shoulders.

"It's just like being a little kid again," he complained. Any minute now she would produce her handkerchief and start scrubbing his face.

"You were less trouble when you were little and I could put you over my knee, young man." Caroline took a step back and surveyed the result. "You'll do." She was wreathed in smiles. "You'll do nicely." Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she laid a gentle hand on his cheek and took a last, fond look at him. "You're a good boy, Marty, even if you do threaten to turn my hair white with worry sometimes."

"I think we'd better getting going." After thirty years of marriage, it was obvious to Joe that Caroline was dangerously close to breaking down. He knew the last thing she would ever want was for Marty to see her cry. With a lady on either arm, Joe walked out to where two chauffeur driven cars were waiting in the driveway.

"This is it then." Marty took one last look around the hallway, and then gave a final glance up at his mother's portrait. He was sure she would have approved.

"This is it," Jack agreed. "You're ready?"

Marty nodded firmly. "I'm ready." His new life was about to begin and he couldn't wait.

The circular driveway was already lined with large terracotta pots, each with a white ribbon tied in a bow, and filled with a round topiary ball of lavender. Interspersed between each pot were huge hurricane lamps, containing fat white candles that would be lit when dusk fell. The house and grounds were gradually transforming themselves for the biggest party they had ever hosted and as the car drew away, the flurry of activity increased to fever-pitch as the final preparation swung into overdrive. Left alone in the house, Bobby licked his front paws reflectively and then sniffed the air appreciatively when the kitchen door opened and an enticing aroma floated into the entrance hall. Something strange was definitely happening, but as long as nobody tried to put a bow around his own neck or take him to the vets, the dog reckoned he could cope with it. Now, if only he could track down that missing bone, everything would be perfect.

* * *

><p>"At last." Callen leapt forward as the car drew up and opened the door smartly, standing to attention as he did so. Like all the men in the wedding party, he and Sam were wearing dark suits, with silver grey waistcoats and pale blue ties, and were sporting button holes of lily of the valley and orange blossom.<p>

"We're not late?" Marty got out of the car and checked his watch anxiously.

"You're on schedule." Sam had planned things out with meticulous precision, his former military training coming firmly to the fore. "And you're as white as a sheet." He clapped the younger man reassuringly on the back, perhaps a little more vigorously than he had intended, as Marty staggered briefly.

"There's not been any problems? You've managed okay?" All of a sudden, Marty was aware of everything that could go wrong. How could he ever have thought that getting married would be as simple as going to church and then having a really big party?

"Deeks – we've been showing people to their seats. How difficult is that? Blyes on one side, Brandels on the other, and then we kind of split the difference with everyone else." And, having been well-warned about Kensi's grandmother's weak bladder, they had made sure she was seated next to a side door.

"Nico's okay to play?"

Callen sighed. Deeks in a panic was enough to try the patience of a saint. "Nico's fine. You know that she wouldn't miss this for the world. Even if she can barely reach the keyboard." Walking behind the heavily-pregnant Nico, resplendent in her wedding finery, Callen had felt like a small tug following in the wake of some gracious ocean liner. "Nice hair cut, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen the back of your neck before."

There was something missing. Marty racked his brain furiously to think what it could possibly be. "Father John!" There was no sign of the priest. _Oh great. That's all we need. How could we possibly get married without a priest? Does the diocese have a hotline for times like this, some sort of system of flying priests?_

"The Father is waiting for you inside the church," Sam said patiently. He could remember a similar feeling of panic when he'd been about to get married, as if all your senses flew out of the window and it was impossible to think straight. He could sympathise, but it was still rather amusing watching Deeks lose it quite so spectacularly. Between them, he and Callen semi frog-marched Deeks into the dim interior of the church.

It felt like the longest walk he'd ever made, Marty thought, walking slowly up the aisle and trying to look straight ahead, knowing that every head was turning to look at him. God, there are people here I've not seen since I was a kid.

"I see the ghosts have come crawling out the Brandel closet," Jack commented in an undertone and then smiled insincerely in the direction of his brothers.

"I'm almost certain we didn't invite Aunt Muriel," Marty hissed. She was a second cousin, once removed and with a tongue that could strip paint off a door.

"You probably didn't. But you can't stop people coming into a church."

"The last time I saw her, she told me I was an odious small boy." _And she meant it. It wasn't my fault that I sat on her Chihuahua. It blended perfectly into the chesterfield. And it bit me on the butt._

Jack nudged his son towards the front pew, and Marty only just managed to transform his inadvertent stumble into a suitably appropriate genuflection.

"I wonder if she thinks you've changed? Or if you've just grown into an odious big boy? " Jack pondered, and then bowed his head reverently as Marty tried not to laugh.

Two seconds later, after the quickest prayer ever, and he was checking his watch again. "She should be here soon. You do think she's coming, don't you?" His knee started jiggling anxiously.

"She's coming." Jack placed his hand firmly on Marty's thigh and pressed down. "Try not to worry, son. Sit back, relax and listen to the music." Nico, almost hidden by a huge arrangement of white roses, was playing her heart out.

"Relax? Really, Dad?" His mouth was dry, his heart was racing and Marty had never been more terrified in his entire life. What if Kensi didn't turn up? What if she'd had second thoughts? He'd better pray again and make a better job of it this time.

Two rows behind, Tony DiNozzo elbowed Ziva in the ribs. "Deeks looks as if he's going to pass out."

"He looks very handsome," she corrected and wondered what Tony would look like, sitting waiting for her to walk down the aisle.

"You're not going to cry, are you?" he asked, seeing an unreadable look on her face.

"What do you think?"

And that was the problem. He really didn't know what to think. Not at all. Tony had never known what to think where Ziva was concerned. She kept him continually dancing from one foot to the other. All he knew was that she fitted into his life perfectly and that he'd never known a woman like her, or loved anyone more. With a little bit of luck, all the rest would fall into place and one day he'd begin to understand her.

* * *

><p>"Perfect timing." When it came right down to it, the secret to a wedding was all about the timing, Sam thought. Once you had your schedule, pretty much everything fell into place. And here was the car containing Allison and Nell pulling up already. If there was anything better than things running to schedule, it was when you actually had a couple of minutes in hand. Of course, Allison had been married to a Marine, so he really shouldn't have expected anything less of her.<p>

Sam pulled out his cell and called Denise, who was waiting in a small garden behind the church, where Crosby could let off a little steam. There was no sense in expecting an energetic eight year old to sit still and behave in church, and it was already tempting fate to hope he would behave suitably angelically as ring bearer, but both his parents had issued dire threats, and then promised suitable bribes, in the desperate hope that he wouldn't disgrace them too much. Still, the chaos that one small boy could cause should never be underestimated.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Nell," Callen said, helping her out.

It was true: the pale blue dress was simple and elegant, complementing her petite frame perfectly and her dark amber hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.

"Wait till you see Kensi." Nell looked at Allison and smiled. "You won't believe how beautiful she looks. She looks like a movie star."

"I'm biased, of course, but she does look gorgeous." Allison fidgeted nervously. "He is here, isn't he?" There was no need to ask who she was referring to.

"He's here. And looking like he's going to pass out with nerves."

Crosby came tearing around the corner and then skidded to a halt as he saw Nell. "Wow. You look pretty." He then promptly went bright red and gazed down intently at his shoes and rubbed his right toe on the groud. In general, he didn't have much time for girls, but he was willing to make an exception where Nell was concerned.

"Do not scuff those shoes," his father instructed and then lifted the boy's chin up to take a final look at him. "You know what you've got to do? And you are going to behave, aren't you?" Sam was leaving nothing to chance.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm not a baby, not like Callie." Crosby looked disdainfully at his little sister, who was sleeping soundly in her mother's arms. _How difficult is it to walk up the middle of the church holding a pillow? How old do they think I am – six, or something?_

"No – you look very grown up," Allison said, taking in the dark suit and sparkling white shirt. "I'd think you were at least ten."

Crosby flashed her an appreciative smile and then hopped from one foot to the other. "Isn't she here yet?" _Why do grown ups always have to stand around talking? Why can't we just get on with this? This is so boring._

"She's coming. The bride is always late. And do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"Mom!" _How come parents are so embarrassing?_ "Dad always say it's rude to be late. How come she gets to be late?"

"Who's 'she', young man? The cat's mother? And anyway, it's a tradition. The bride is always late." Luckily for Denise, the wedding car swept up and any further questions were stalled.

A mass of white tulle seemed to float around Kensi's face and shoulders and when the driver opened the door the heady perfume of her flowers drifted out to greet the waiting party. Callen and Sam stood side by side and watched as Nell and Allison carefully arranged the veil and gown to perfection.

"You were never lovelier." Callen bowed his head briefly and then smiled at her. "You're going to make Deeks the happiest man on earth." He winked at Nell. "Looking good. Save me a dance?"

Nell nodded and then took a firm hold of Crosby's hand.

Sam blew her a kiss and watched as Kensi placed her right hand on Gibbs' arm. "He's not going to believe it when he sees you, Kensi. You give new meaning to the word 'gorgeous'." He gave Crosby one final look and then they went into the church, leaving Allison to say a final word.

"I'm not going to cry." She was blinking furiously. "Because I know you're going to be so happy, my darling girl."

"I am, Mom. And thank you, for everything."

Callen tactfully led Allison away and nodded to Father John, who was waiting just inside the doorway as they walked past. "I think they're ready now."

As the priest walked out to meet them, Gibbs placed his right hand protectively over Kensi's and she turned her face up to smile at him. This was going to be an awfully big adventure.

* * *

><p>Marty had almost convinced himself that something had gone wrong, that Kensi had changed her mind, when Father John appeared and gestured for everyone to stand up. Taking a deep breath, he moved out of the pew to stand in front of the priest, hoping that no-one would notice how much his knees were shaking. There was a brief silence and then the first regal notes of '<em>One Hand, One Heart' <em>began to fill the church and the sense of expectation from the congregation was almost palpable. He couldn't stand it any longer and turned his head around to look right down the aisle to where Nell and Crosby were just starting their slow progression. Behind them, still semi-hidden Marty could just see Kensi and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Everything was alright. Everything was going to be just perfect, because Kensi was here. This was really going to happen.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny is in seventh heaven right now - I hope you like the wedding so far. There is, of course, more to follow. Much more!<em>


	8. Chapter 8

Yes - finally this is the chapter you have all been waiting for, as Kensi and Deeks get married. Hankies at the ready, everyone...

* * *

><p>Standing at the foot of the aisle, Gibbs counted inwardly as he watched Nell and Crosby take their measured paces up the dark blue carpet that stretched out like plush velvet towards the altar. <em>Three… four… five. Okay, it's time.<em> He inhaled deeply. "Ready?" His voice wasn't quite as steady as he would have liked.

Kensi nodded and her fingers tightened around his arm. "I'm ready."

"Let's go get you married then."

_One Hand; One Heart_ had never sounded more majestic nor more perfect for a wedding. Nico had worked feverishly on her arrangement and as she played, she poured her soul into every single note. They started the long, slow walk up towards the altar, and as they slowly processed, every head turned to watch. But the only person Kensi had any eyes for was standing stock still and staring resolutely to the front, where Father John stood, clad in white robes and surplice of gold, holding up his hands in a welcoming gesture.

"You're allowed to look, Mikey," Jack said in a stage whisper. His son looked completely terrified, like some rabbit caught in the glare of oncoming headlights.

Marty turned around slowly, like a man in a daze and finally saw Kensi, walking slowly up to meet him, with a cloud of white floating around her dark hair and wearing this magical, incredible dress that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. But all that paled into nothing when he looked into her eyes. A slow smile of pure, unadulterated delight spread across his face.

"You look beautiful," he mouthed. "So incredibly beautiful," and Kensi flashed an equally brilliant smile back.

_Make of our hands, one hand.  
>Make of our hearts, one heart.<br>Make of our vows, one last vow  
>Only death will part us now.<br>_

Sitting in the front pew with Joe, Caroline and Rowena, Hetty thought that her heart would burst with love and pride. There was Kensi, wearing a dress made from the silk of her beloved Maryanne's own wedding gown and smiling and looking as if she had stepped straight out of a picture book. And there was Maryanne's son, her great-nephew Marty, looking at Kensi walking towards him as if he couldn't believe his luck; as if someone had given him the moon and the stars to play with. It was getting rather hard to focus, she realised, for her eyes had grown unaccountably misty.

"They make a lovely couple, don't they?" Rowena pressed a handkerchief into Hetty's hand. "I knew you would cry. You are such a hopeless romantic." Not that she wasn't moved herself.

"Don't you dare tell anyone." She dabbed at her eyes discretely. "I have a reputation to try to keep intact."

"Your secret's safe with me." More years ago than either of them cared to remember, Rowena and Hetty had joined forces with a few other trusted friends to form a loose, informal alliance they called the Catena. There were very few members left, but they considered themselves still bound by the ties that had brought them together. And now, Rowena mused, she and Hetty were further tied together by Marty. Life really was terribly strange at times, the way the various strands interwove with one another.

_Just a few steps more_, Kensi thought, _and I'm almost there_.

The music was soaring all around them now as Nico played her heart out, and the sun that poured in through the stained glass windows cast hues of that encompassed all the colours of the rainbows and beamed them down onto the delicate silk of her dress.

"Hey there, princess." Marty looked strangely unfamiliar in his immaculate suit, with his hair much shorter than she could ever remember seeing it before, even after the fire in Scotland that had singed it. There were so many things Kensi wanted to say, only the priest was holding up his hands in a welcoming gesture.

_Make of our lives, one life.  
>Day after day, one life.<br>Now it begins, now we start.  
>One hand, one heart.<em>

"Dearly beloved," Father John began, in the time honoured tradition, and the words rang a chord in Kensi's heart. _That's who you are to me: my dearly beloved._

And then Gibbs was taking her hand and placing it in Father John's, who then took Marty's hand and laid it on top of hers, before wrapping his stole around them both, and this was it, Kensi realised. She was actually getting married. And it was the easiest thing in the world to promise to love him forever and ever, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, world without end, amen. Because her world was Marty and her world would be nothing without him. It was that simple.

"Don't you dare cry," Gibbs said in an undertone to Allison, having returned to sit beside her in the pew, his duties now at an end.

"I'm not crying." It was pure coincidence that her hankie was a sodden mass.

"You could have fooled me." The handkerchief he handed to her was nothing like the delicate one Rowena had given to Hetty earlier on. This one was reassuringly large and masculine, and had a comforting aroma of cedar wood. It was a strong, practical piece of material, with no pretence to outward style, being all about function and therefore perfectly suited to its owner. Allison scrunched it up in her fingers, musing upon the attraction of reliability, where once she had sought unpredictability and then looked at the radiant expression on her daughter's face and prayed that everything would be wonderful in Kensi's life. She sat back and listened as Jack gave the first reading.

_He reads well_, she thought, enjoying the measured, sincere tones, that made new sense of the old, familiar words. Allison found she was listening to St. Paul's words as if for the first time.

"…and now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." Jack shut the Bible and returned gratefully to his seat. It had been a long time since he had been in the spotlight like this and he wasn't entirely sure he liked all the attention.

A few rows back, Tony snuck a look at Ziva, who was watching everything intently, as if she was seeing all this for the first time. Which she possibly was, for all he knew. What he took for granted as being an integral part of his life was alien to her, and vice versa. What he knew about Jewish weddings could be written on the back of a postage stamp, after all. There was so much they still didn't know about each other. "Reckon you could see us doing this one day?" he ventured.

"No." It was an uncharacteristically short response, even by Ziva's standards, and Tony sank back into the pew, feeling like a burst balloon.

_Nicely done, DiNozzo. That's you told then. Is it possible to get jilted when it's not even your own wedding?_

Ziva's hand squeezed his knee. "Tony, of course I can't see you and me up there instead of Kensi and Deeks. Because this is a Catholic church and I'm Jewish. So we'd have to get married before a judge. If we got married at all. You'd have to ask me first." Her hand crept up inside his thigh.

Never, not in a million years, would Tony begin to understand women. But he was going to have great fun trying to work it all out. And in the meantime, he could live in a state of happy confusion. Very happy indeed, especially given where Ziva's hand now was.

Crosby shifted his weight from one foot to the other and wondered when this whole boring wedding would be over. He really didn't see why everyone made such a fuss about weddings, and had even made him get dressed up in this stupid suit and tie. And as for being ring bearer, it wasn't even as if they were the real rings, because Marty's dad had those. _So what's the point in all this standing around? And when's it ever going to end?_

The priest was talking again, and Crosby thought that for an old guy, he sure had a lot to say. Being that old, you would have thought that he'd said just about all he could possibly have to say a long time ago. But no, there he was telling everybody to pray again, so Crosby reckoned he'd better play along and bow his head. He'd pray alright: he'd pray that it was going to be over and he could get those hot dogs his Dad had promised him would be served at the reception, which turned out to be a fancy word for eating dinner in a tent. And why was Marty having a tent anyway, when he had a huge house? It seemed that grown-ups went completely mad when it came to weddings, even the really cool ones like Marty. Well, Crosby wasn't about to make that mistake, no sir. He was never getting married. He didn't even like girls, so that wasn't going to be a problem. Except for his Mom. She was alright. Crosby turned around and flashed her a grin.

"Doesn't Crosby look smart? And he's behaving so well." Denise had been dreading that Crosby would pull one of his stunts and somehow wreck the whole occasion.

"Don't speak too soon," Sam begged her. He'd had to promise Crosby a new bike in order to get him on his best behaviour. And he was still none to sanguine about how long the good behaviour would last.

"He's a good boy," Denise countered, with the complete blindness only a doting mother could produce. Besides which, she'd promised Crosby that they could go to the pound and see if there was a dog that might want to come home with them. If that didn't get him on his best behaviour, then nothing would. And if Sam didn't like it, tough.

They stood to sing the 23rd psalm, and a boy soprano provided the descant, his pure, clear voice soaring effortlessly above the congregation in the final verse.

_Goodness and mercy all my life  
>Shall surely follow me<br>And in God's house forever more  
>My dwelling place shall be.<em>

Crosby was making absolutely no pretence of even attempting to sing. He patted his jacket pocket carefully, making sure his gift was still there. His Mom had wanted him to give Kensi a silver horseshoe, but that was just dumb. He was pretty sure Kensi didn't ride, so what would she want with a horseshoe? No, his own gift was much better. And he knew Marty would love it.

Next to Sam and Denise, Eric and George were remembering their own wedding day, which had been much smaller and considerably less formal, but just as wonderful.

"No regrets?" It was the first time they'd appeared together as a couple at a formal affair, and George knew that Eric was still slightly apprehensive.

"None at all." And Eric wasn't just referring to their presence at this wedding. "Not a single regret, not for one minute." When you found that one, special person, life took on a whole new meaning.

"And I have given them the glory you gave me,  
>so that they may be one, as we are one,<br>I in them and you in me,  
>that they may be brought to perfection as one,<br>that the world may know that you sent me,  
>and that you loved them even as you loved me."<p>

There was something about a wedding, Nell thought, listening to the gospel reading, something that brought out the best in people. It was as if happiness was contagious. Everything today was going flawlessly, without a single hitch. It was possibly the most wonderful wedding she'd ever been to. Now, if only she could meet some cute guy at the reception, then everything would be just perfect. Only what were the chances of that? This wasn't _Four Weddings and A Funeral_ after all. Not that she was any Andy McDowell, and Hugh Grant wasn't really her type either. So it looked like she'd be stuck dancing with her work mates, all of whom were already spoken for. Or with Crosby, who was at least a foot shorter than her. Great. that would be a night to remember then.

Nell was almost certain that Kensi was going to toss the bouquet in her direction, only what was the point in that? How on earth could Nell be the next one to get married when she didn't even have a date to bring to the wedding? How many more times was she going to have to stand and watch some other girl get married to the man of her dreams and then go home alone to an empty bed?

"May her husband put his trust in her  
>and recognize that she is his equal<br>and the heir with him to the life of grace.  
>May he always honor her and love her<br>as Christ loves his bride, the Church."

Caroline smiled as she listened to the final blessing, and wondered if the good Father had chosen it especially. It did seem particularly apt for her boy. The life of grace – now, wasn't that a beautiful concept? What a pity one could not attain such a state in this life. The church might very well refer to it as 'this transitory life', but it could seem very long indeed when you were living through turmoil and chaos. But, in the end, everything had worked out just fine, and Marty had Kensi and he was happy. And that was all that mattered.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Father John announced, breaking into her thoughts. "Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." He then leant closer and whispered, "You can kiss your wife now, Marty."

Hetty, Caroline and Allison all brought their handkerchiefs up to their eyes in perfect unison as they watched the bridal couple standing facing one another. And as Marty reached out to lift the veil gently back, the congregation seemed to hold its collective breath. It wasn't the longest kiss they had ever exchanged, nor was it the deepest, but it was very possibly the sweetest.

Nico waited until they parted and then, before anybody had any smart ideas about ruining the romance of the occasion by doing anything so crass as clapping, she crashed into the thundering beginning of Clark's _Trumpet Voluntary_ and the mighty organ filled the entire church with joyous, triumphant sound as Mr and Mrs Martin Deeks walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, joined together for all eternity and with smiles of pure joy on their faces.

_Make of our hands, one hand.  
>Make of our hearts, one heart.<br>Make of our vows, one last vow  
>Only death will part us now.<br>_

_Make of our lives, one life.  
>Day after day, one life.<br>Now it begins, now we start.  
>One hand, one heart.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny's eyes are crossed-that's how happy he is.<br>Randy plot bunny is mildly excited that Ziva and Tony managed a little hanky panky.  
>Evil plot bunny is wondering what Crosby has in his pocket.<br>And me? I just hope the wedding lived up to your expectations._

_One Hand, One Heart lyrics written by Stephen Sondheim_


	9. Chapter 9

_Megan asked which of my stories I enjoyed writing the most: the K/D universe, or the trilogy that's currently at **Hang Onto Yourself**._  
><em>I hope you dno't think this is a cop-out, but it really does depend on which one I'm working on! Each story has a whole lot of historybackstory - call it what you will (SunnyCitrus calls them my epics!) and it's quite challenging to keep all the threads in place. Which is why i also love to do one-shots, or shorter pieces like **Let's Dance**.  
>I guess the simple answer is that I just love writing, especially about Kensi and Deeks. All I wish is that Shane Brennan would let them get together - we all know it has to come - doesn't it? (please do not disillusion me about that. I am a sensitive soul, who has led a sheltered life, as I'm sure you can tell).<em>

* * *

><p>The doors of the church were standing wide open, and the bright sun beckoned them forward welcomingly.<p>

"We did it," Kensi said gleefully and looked in amazement at the plain gold band on her ring finger. "We really did it."

"We sure did." Marty bent his head to kiss her again.

"Put her down, Deeks – you've got the rest of your lives for that now." Gibbs patted him on the shoulder in congratulation, and then kissed Kensi. "You take care of each other now, understand?" _And if you are even one tenth as happy as Shannon and I were, you will be blessed._ He gave them a small, rather fixed smile and drifted away, remembering all those dreams, how infinite a world that seemed to stretch out before you on your wedding day_. I thought I had everything, the day we got married – and I was right_. Something that perfect could never be repeated – Gibbs knew that, because he'd tried many times to recapture the magic, and each time it had proved only to be a pointless exercise in futility. It seemed that there really was just one person who was really intended for you. But at least he had had those golden years.

After that, it seemed there was a tumult of people pouring out of the church and all wanting to congratulate them, so many that Kensi and Marty almost had to fight their way through a positive hailstorm of confetti, rose petals and rice to the Rolls Royce Silver Cloud that was waiting to take them back to the Malibu house. Just as they got there, Crosby wriggled his way through the sea of legs and presented himself triumphantly.

"I got you this." He delved into his jacket pocket and produced a rather crumpled looking gift bag.

"Mom said I was to give you a dumb horseshoe, but this is miles better."

Kensi smiled and started to put her hand into the bag, only to remember that this was Crosby and caution was most definitely required. "Why don't you open it, Marty?"

Raising his eyebrows, her brand-new husband took the precautionary measure of opening the bag as wide as possible and scanning the contents carefully, before extracting the gift gingerly.

"Isn't it cool?" Crosby said happily. "It's a rabbit's foot keyring. For good luck."

"I can safely say that's the most unusual gift we've got," Marty assured him.

"I wanted to get you something you'd always remember. And be useful too. My Dad says you're always getting hurt." Crosby grabbed his hand. "I don't want you to get hurt, Marty. So you keep it with you, okay? And that way you'll be alright."

"I'll do that, buddy."

"I would have got you one too, Kensi, only I didn't have enough money," Crosby said with the subtle, insouciant brutality of an eight year-old.

"I'll share Marty's," Kensi assured him. "I'm sure the luck will rub off on me." She was struggling to keep a straight face and was rather relived when he wriggled his way back through the crowd. "Sam is going to be so mortified when he finds out about this."

"Not as mortified as me. Or that poor rabbit." Marty stared at the disembodied foot with considerable perplexity. "Do I really have to use this?"

"You do," Kensi assured him. "Mainly because Crosby is going to check up every time he sees you. And because it was really sweet of him to spend his own money on such a thoughtful present. I just wish I'd thought about it earlier." If she'd thought there was a single ounce of truth in the superstition, Kensi would make Marty wear the furry foot around his neck.

"How can it be lucky? It wasn't lucky for the rabbit, was it?"

"Don't split hares."

"Was that a pun?"

"Probably."

The driver was opening the door, and Kensi stepped into the car, lifting up her dress elegantly as their family and friends drew close once again, throwing more handfuls of confetti until the door was finally closed and they were driving off.

"Happy?" Marty turned and gave one final wave, spotting Jack right at the front of the crowd, one arm around Rowena, the other raised in salute.

Kensi beamed radiantly. "Oh yes. Very, very happy." She leant back with a sigh. "I feel like I'm in a dream." So far, everything about the day had been perfect, even better than she ever dared hope.

"You look like a dream. You look so incredibly beautiful." The way the soft oyster silk of the dress accentuated the tawny glow of her skin, and her eyes flashed dark and lovely beneath the coronal of white flowers assured Marty that he really was the luckiest man alive.

Her hand slipped into his. "You don't look so bad yourself. Quite distinguished, in fact. I do love you in a suit."

"Only in a suit?"

"In a suit, out of a suit. I just love you, Marty Deeks."

"And I love you too, Kensi Deeks."

The driver took a look in the rear-view mirror and smiled. Just like every newly married couple he'd ever driven, they were now kissing and totally impervious to anything else. It was really rather touching, if only it wasn't for all that danged confetti all over the place. That was going to be real bugger to clean up.

* * *

><p>"Ladies and gentlemen: I have the great pleasure of introducing my son and his beautiful wife – Mr and Mrs Martin Deeks!"<p>

The French doors opened and Marty and Kensi came out to a round of applause. Waiters moved among the guests, dispensing champagne and the terrace was thronged with people. In the distance, Marty could see Crosby and Bobby romping happily on the grass. Crosby had discarded his jacket and Bobby appeared to have found some dubious substance to roll in, given the muddy hue of his formerly sparkling white coat. No doubt Crosby would be in a similarly dishevelled state soon. Still, that wasn't his problem.

"Well, how does it feel?" Nico asked. "Do you feel any different now you're married?" She bent as far forward as her belly would allow and kissed Kensi.

"It feels wonderful. And just right, somehow. Like I'm complete."

"You're the one Mikey was waiting for, all these years. And you're very nearly good enough for him." To her amazement, Kensi saw that Nico's eyes were full of tears. "Sorry, I'm just a mass of hormones at the moment. I could hardly see the organ keyboard this afternoon, let alone the music."

"You played brilliantly," Marty said. "I've never heard you play better."

"Given that the height of your musical achievement was "The Merry Peasant", that's not exactly saying much."

"The piano teacher said I played with great gusto. Those were here exact words."

"It wasn't a compliment, honey."

"So I don't know much about music? But I do know when you're playing from the heart, Nico." It was difficult to embrace a heavily pregnant lady, but he managed it somehow. "Is it my imagination, or have you shrunk?" Her head barely came up to his shoulder.

"My feet were killing me. I left my shoes underneath that white hydrangea over there." Nico gestured carelessly. "I swear, this baby is going to be an only child."

Callen appeared behind her. "You say that now, but just wait…"

Nico stepped strategically backwards, and he was very glad that she was not wearing her shoes, because the pain induced by a bare foot was quite bad enough, thank you very much, without adding a high heel into the equation.

"This baby is definitely going to be our first and our last," she declared forcefully. "And you can go make an appointment at the doctor's to make darn sure of that."

Feeling it was time for a strategic withdrawal, Callen nodded to his team mates, and led her away, trying to pretend he wasn't blushing violently.

"Callen's hen-pecked already – and he's not even married." Sam shook his head in mock desperation. "You look a lot better now, Deeks. Marriage obviously agrees with you. I thought you were going to pass out earlier on."

"I wasn't that nervous."

"He was," Sam informed Kensi. "He definitely was."

"Your son gave me a great present." Marty produced the lucky rabbit foot, and Denise looked as if she wished the floor would open and swallow her up.

"I told him to get you a lucky horseshoe!" she wailed.

"I think it's cute." Kensi looked longingly at baby Callie. "Will she come to me, do you think?"

"You know she will." Denise handed over her daughter, and Kensi's heart felt very full as she settled her comfortably.

Callie had to be the most placid, contented baby in the whole world and she lay happily in Kensi's arms, looking up at her with huge eyes the exact colour of dark chocolate and blowing small bubbles.

"One day," Marty whispered and kissed the top of Kensi's head, a feat that was none too easy, given the crown of flowers. "I promise you: one day." He put his arm around her waist and saw the answering smile in her eyes that told him the time for mourning was past and that they could move onto the next stage: that this evening would be a time to dance and to rejoice. There was a season, a time and a purpose for everything under heaven and this was their time.

"Can I keep her – just for a little while?" Kensi's free hand stroked the soft curls clustered on the baby's head and the solitaire diamond flashed brilliantly as it caught the sunlight.

"I think we could manage to enjoy the freedom." Sam and Denise watched as the other couple moved away to talk to their other guests.

"They're going to be fine," Denise said confidently.

Sam didn't say anything. Callen had told him that Kensi and Deeks had agreed to undergo genetic testing to see if there was any underlying reason for the miscarriage, and he wondered if the lack of news in that direction was a bad sign. Of course, they might just be keeping it to themselves, or more tests might be necessary, but he was worried, mainly because he understood only too well how something like that could tear at the very fibre of your being. Life without either Callie or Crosby was simply unthinkable.

"Crosby!" Denise's voice was full of horror. "What have you done?"

Jerked back to reality with a vengeance, Sam looked at his son in disbelief, who was now dripping wet.

"Bobby fell in the pool," Crosby said, as if that was blindingly obvious. Sure enough, in the distance, the dog was shaking himself with great gusto.

"Exactly which part of 'behave yourself' didn't you understand?" his father asked despairingly. "Your Mom brought a change of clothes for the baby, but we thought you were old enough to be trusted. It looks like we were wrong, doesn't it?"

"I saved Bobby!" Crosby protested, but neither parent was listening, because they were too busy being mad. He was a hero and they didn't even care.

"You're going to have to take him home, Sam. He can't stay in wet clothes." Denise looked at Crosby and wondered why she had ever decided he was too old for his reins. Or maybe she should just put a collar and lead around his neck next time?

"Don't be silly. I'll look after him." Nell swam into vision, looking like a fairy godmother, Crosby though, in her wide-skirted dress. If he believed in such things, which he didn't. That was just all mushy and the sort of things that girls liked. And he didn't like girls. He didn't even particularly like his mother right now. But Nell was nice.

"How?" The last time Crosby had got into a pickle at Deeks' house, he'd ended up wearing a t-shirt, that looked more like a dress on him. Denise really didn't think that was going to be suitable today.

"Simple – we'll go in the house, throw Crosby under the shower and his clothes in the dryer. Give me half an hour and I'll have him back here as good as new." Nell didn't really have any great incentive to hang around talking idly to people and be reminded that she didn't have anyone special in her life. There was nothing like a wedding to make you feel lonely.

As it turned out, that was a great move on her part, because while she was waiting for the dryer to complete its cycle, this cute waiter came past. It turned out he was a student at Pepperdine, studying psychology, and even better than that, he was cute – really cute. And he was single.

By the time Crosby pattered back into the laundry room, full of tales about the really huge bath Marty had and how it was almost big enough to go swimming in, it was to discover Nell and some strange guy drinking champagne and very really stupid – giggling and with these strange looks on their faces, like Callie, just before she was about to throw up. He didn't understand grown ups at all and he never would. Crosby had no intention of every growing up and thought he would stay eight for ever and ever.

"Are my pants dry, cos I'm naked here?" he announced in stentorian tones and had the considerable satisfaction of watching them jump apart like a pair of scalded cats.

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><p><em>Coming up next: the first dance and then Kensi and Deeks have a surprise for their guests. And then - the mayhem starts. Because things have been awfully peaceful for a long time, haven't they?<em>


	10. Chapter 10

"It's been such a beautiful wedding. You must be so very happy and so very proud. I know I am." Hetty smiled across the table at Allison, well aware of the somewhat loaded statements she was so boldly laying down and decreeing as if they were gospel truths.

"They make a lovely couple," Allison agreed.

Six months ago, she had been filled with doubts and worries. The public fall of Jack Brandel had been rather spectacular, and the subsequent events had not reassured her that Kensi was marrying into the most stable family. But things had moved on since then, especially since their visit on the way back from that rather strange road-trip to Death Valley and Los Vegas. Allison had noticed there was something palpably different about both Kensi and Marty at the time, something she could not quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, whatever had happened (and Allison strongly suspected that Marty had managed to put himself in danger yet again – really, the boy seemed to have a death wish or something) it had pulled them even closer together, until even Allison could not deny the very real love.

And seeing Kensi today, looking at her now, just confirmed that this was the right decision. Her daughter was clearly on top of the world. Marty – well, he was growing on her. Especially now that he had finally had his hair cut and had even managed to shave. If only he could make a little bit of an effort more often… And if only he wasn't quite so very rich. Allison had been prepared to help Kensi out when her daughter finally settled down. For years she had been putting money aside each month in a special account, so that when the time came, there would be enough for Kensi and her future husband to use as the down-payment on an apartment, or even a house. That clearly wasn't going to be necessary now. Perhaps she should just blow the lot on a really good holiday?

Allison had always thought that a cruise would be lovely, only you didn't want to do something like that by yourself: no, you wanted someone to share it with. Her eyes drifted across the room and finally settled on Jethro Gibbs, who was chatting quietly with a tall man Allison had heard referred to as Nate. A cruise might be just the opportunity she had been waiting for. Lots of time to spend together, romantic sunsets watched from the deck of a luxury ship – what could be nicer? And who knew – by the time they got back, there might even be some good news? Lots of people had honeymoon babies, didn't they? She was under no illusions that her daughter found it very hard to keep her hands off Marty, and that the feeling was fully reciprocated. However, they were obviously being careful. He was a Catholic, after all. Now they were married though, and Allison could see no reason why they wouldn't have a baby as soon as possible.

It was finally time for the speeches, and Marty's throat felt as dry as sandpaper, dryer if that was possible. Standing up, he managed to get through all the obligatory thanks to parents, family and friends. After that, it didn't seem quite so bad and he even managed to relax slightly, even though there was something slightly unnerving about having so many eyes fixed so very firmly upon him.

"It means such a lot to Kensi and me to have you all here today, to share in our joy and happiness with us. And I had this whole speech written, but right now I'm just so happy that I don't think I could read it."

A large percentage of the female audience sighed emotionally at this, including Hetty, who appeared genuinely moved. Then again, she had been drinking champagne fairly steadily since 4 o'clock.

"I couldn't believe my luck when Kensi agreed to marry me. You see, nobody makes me laugh more, nobody makes me happier, and nobody is going to be a better mother." He turned to face her and raised his glass. "So here's to you, Kensi. Thank you for being such a beautiful bride and for making me the happiest man in the world."

"You could take a few lessons from him," Denise said in an undertone. Sam prudently decided to ignore that remark and merely stood up to join in toasting the bride.

Callen looked across at Nico, who shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm just trying to find a position that isn't too uncomfortable." She was way beyond even hoping to find a position that was actually comfortable, knowing that would be futile. "Anyway, I've got to join the band for the first dance in a few minutes."

With an effort, Nico got to her feet and padded across to the piano. It had been a long day, and bed sounded just about perfect right now. Only she wouldn't miss this for the world. As long as Mikey didn't break one of Kensi's toes, this was going to be the final touch to a day filled with classical romance and beautiful music.

The lighting was slowly,dimmed, so that the pale blue and silver walls of the marquee seemed to shimmer in the reflected light form the candles on each table, and the single spotlight that punctuated the dance floor and the couple that stood facing one another.

"You ready?"

Marty nodded. "We start with the right foot, don't we?"

"Just like we practised." Kensi had to smile at the look on intense concentration on his face. "And try to smile, okay? It's meant to be fun."

"Fun?"

The opening notes rang out as a series of crystalline arpeggios from the piano soared into the air and then, at a nod from Nico the band joined in and the bridal couple began to circle around the floor as "_Come Rain or Come Shine_," played out, slowly and dreamily.

Watching from the sidelines, Callen felt an unaccustomed lump in his throat. _I'm going to love you, like nobody's loved you. Come rain or come shine_, he thought. Christ, that was romantic. This whole day had been romantic, from start to finish. He hadn't expected to feel like this. Weddings had been a rite of passage for other people; and a great opportunity to meet people (mainly women). But this was different. This time he was personally involved and everything had been about a public proclamation of love and the determination to make a brand new life together. And so what if Deeks wasn't the greatest dancer in the world – he was up there, with his wife and looking so damned happy it was as if he was lit from within. This was what it was all about, Callen realised and knew that he wanted to get married more than he'd ever wanted anything in the world. With the possible exception of not having a vasectomy. Clearly, he was going to have to do some major negotiating with Nico over that. Maybe he could use music – serenade her with something like _"I Only Have Eyes For You?"_ If Deeks could do romance, then he could too. And how could you possibly fail with a song like that?

After a couple of circuits of the dance-floor, they separated and Kensi went over to Jack, while Marty held his hand out to Allison.

"I'll try not to step on your toes," he whispered. "But I can't guarantee anything."

"I wouldn't worry. Kensi's father used to do it all the time."

Jack proved to be rather an expert dancer, and whirled Kensi around in an accomplished fashion. It was just a pity the dancing genes had not been passed down a generation. "Welcome to the Deeks/Brandel clan. Which are you going to use, by the way?"

"Neither. It's too complicated, so I decided just to stay Blye. You don't mind, do you?"

"Why would I? I use Rowena's name these days anyway. It seemed easier, somehow. And it's only a name, isn't it? It's what's in your heart that's important."

"I think this is our dance." Nate smiled down at Nell, who had a rather dreamy expression on her face. "I may not be the most exciting partner you'll have tonight, but I'll probably be the safest."

Out of the corner of her eye, Nell could see her new friend busily clearing tables. He was going to be working for at least another couple of hours, but he had her cell-phone number and the night would still be young, and the grounds of the house were large enough to afford all sorts of opportunities. So, in the meantime, she would dance – why not? She could do safe with Nate and then she could throw caution to the winds underneath the stars. Or not. Anything could happen on a night like this. Anything at all. She might even fall in love.

Hetty decided to bide her time until the disco started a little later, having taken the precaution of speaking to the DJ beforehand and making sure he had a selection of Lady Gaga tracks. 'Poker Face' would be a good place to start, and it was a track she felt was singularly suited to herself. You had to love the Gaga after all.

* * *

><p>"I think it's just about time."<p>

The party was now in full swing, and Hetty had been delighted to find another fervent Gaga-aficionado in the shape of Crosby. Tony and Ziva had spent most of the evening dancing as closely together as possible, all their normal defences completely let down. They'd been doing a lot of talking, a lot of thinking and they planned to do a whole lot of loving after the party was over.

"So soon?" Kensi couldn't believe the day was nearly over and she was suddenly reluctant to leave.

"We've got a plane to catch, and I'm in the mood for a honeymoon. I'm in a honeymood."

The next part of the adventure was about to begin, but there was one last thing they had to do.

"If you thought I was going to be the typical bride and not make a speech, I'm afraid you were wrong." The flowers on Kensi's head were slightly skew-whiff, but Marty just thought she looked more adorable than ever as she stood on the stage and addressed the audience.

"A few days ago, we asked a talented friend to help us put together a musical tribute, and since then, all sorts of people have been working away behind the scenes to create this. And by some miracle, they managed to keep it a secret. We wanted this to be a surprise and to be our way of saying 'thank you' to everyone who is important in our lives."

She paused, as the audience exchanged bewildered looks, not quite sure of what was coming next, and looked directly at Hetty. "And we also wanted to say that the winner of the NCIS pot on the 'will they or won't they' sweepstakes had kindly donated her winnings – her rather substantial winnings – to the LAPD benevolent fund. Which was very generous."

"Even if federal employees are forbidden from gambling while on official duty," her husband added somewhat piously.

"Just for the record, those of you who have had the dubious pleasure of hearing Marty sing will be very glad to hear that we used a backing track." Kensi left the stage, and the gales of laughter subsided as the film began to play.

The love theme from _Moulin Rouge_ began to fill the marquee. Clearly the wedding photographer had worked overtime, because the opening shots were the formal wedding portraits, showing a couple who had eyes only for each other, and whose love shone out, brilliant and true.

_Never knew I could feel like this  
>Like I've never seen the sky before<br>Want to vanish inside your kiss  
>Every day I love you more and more<br>Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings?  
>Telling me to give you everything<br>Seasons may change, winter to spring  
>But I love you until the end of time<em>

"Did you know about this?" Callen asked. Nico shook her head silently, as older photographs began to fill the screen next, including an informal shot taken around ten years ago, where she and her best friend had their arms around one another. They had travelled some hard and lonely roads in the intervening years, but finally their destinies had entwined once again.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
>Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace<br>Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste  
>It all revolves around you<br>And there's no mountain too high  
>No river too wide<br>Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
>Storm clouds may gather, and stars may collide<br>But I love you until the end of time._

"I think I love you even more now than when we got married," Sam whispered. He and Denise had been so stupid, they had nearly thrown it all away, but somehow, by the grace of God, they had weathered the storm and found safe harbour in one another's arms. And they had never stopped loving each other, even if they had somehow lost sight of that fact.

George looked at Eric and wondered what he'd done to deserve such a man in his life. "So that was why you disappeared earlier on. You've done a great job."

"Think of it as our present to them." It had taken a huge amount of work, especially putting in the wedding portraits, but it was worth it. Seeing the finished product was incredible, as was hearing the wedding guests' sighs of admiration. Even Eric, who was a notorious perfectionist, was pleased with the results, but George's praise and appreciation meant more than anything. "This isn't much like our wedding, is it?"

"No, not much. Ours was small and perfect – because you were there. And I will love you, until my dying day."

You could not dictate when or indeed how love would enter your life. You could resist it with all your might, but if it was truly meant to be, then in the end you would be powerless to resist, because true love, the love that knows no bounds, would sweep you up to such great heights that you could almost touch eternity.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
>Come what may<br>Come what may  
>I will love you until my dying day.<em>

The music ended and for a second the screen went blank. And then Marty and Kensi appeared, in casual clothes, sitting on the terrace in brilliant sunshine,with Bobby beside then. This had clearly been filmed a few days before, as both Bobby and his master were sporting their normal shaggy hair.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening," Kensi said.

"And don't feel you have to drink the bar dry. Even if it is free. And that means you, Callen."

They looked at one another and then spoke in unison. "So keep on dancing – even if Mr and Mrs Deeks have now left the building."

There was a momentary silence, as the audience digested this news in darkness.

"The sneaky little devils!" Hetty couldn't help herself. "And I wanted to try to catch the bouquet."

* * *

><p><em>Come What May (swoon - such a romantic song!) composed by David Baerwald.<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_A nice long chunk this time..._

* * *

><p>"The sneaky little devils!" Hetty couldn't help herself. "And I wanted to try to catch the bouquet."<p>

Jack sat back in his seat and roared with laughter. "That's exactly what Maryanne and I did – we snuck away when no-one was looking."

"I remember," an almost forgotten voice said. "You thought you'd managed to foil any possible attempts at us hijacking you or the car." Bernie Brandel stood and looked down at his youngest brother. "It's been a long time, Jack." He paused for a moment and then held out his hand. "Too long and I was too quick to judge. And too slow to apologise."

For just a moment his hand hung in the empty air, and then Jack took hold of it in a firm grip. "It's good to see you again." His brother was a proud man, and he knew how much this had cost him. Of course, Bernie had his own share of family worries to deal with, as his adored and horrifically spoiled daughter was now in prison serving a sentence for the attempted murder of her cousin. Life was so unpredictable: Jack could recall Emily wheeling her baby cousin around in his pram and saying how much better he was than any doll. Perhaps it was better that you never knew what was going to happen in the future?

"As I remember it, you'd done a pretty thorough job of stuffing my suitcase full of confetti. Everywhere I walked, I left a trail of the stuff behind me." That had been a lifetime ago.

"We've done the same to the kids," Bernie confessed and gestured to another man, who bore all the physical hallmarks of being another member of the Brandel clan. "Stevie arranged for a corporate jet to fly them to New York tonight, and he and I have crammed each and every overhead locker with confetti. For old times' sake." He looked at his brother and they shared almost identical grins as the pictured the chaos.

Jack stood up. "How about we go on up to the house, where we can talk properly? You, me and Stevie? For old times' sake?"

Bernie put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'd like that. And so would Steve. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Do I sense the Brandel brothers are going to make a comeback?" Hetty whispered to Rowena as she watched them go outside, together again after far too many years.

"Why not? Jack's a shareholder in the company now. And I'm trying to persuade him to move back to California permanently. His family is here, and quite frankly I'm fed up with the Scottish climate. And I'm too old to take on the task of rebuilding the hotel. It would be much easier to buy a small inn over here and start again." She had her eye on a place at Carmel that was almost too perfect for words. And while it was in easy reach of LA, they would not be too close for comfort either.

"It's never too late to start afresh." Allison's eyes were glowing as brightly as her daughter's had done earlier in the day and her face was flushed. Jethro might not be the technically accomplished of dancers, but they weren't on _Dancing With the Stars_ after all. Just the feeling of his arms around her was enough to make Allison's heart beat just a little faster. And on Monday she would be flying back to Washington with him.

Nell had been nursing her cell phone all night and finally got the text message she had been waiting for. Looking up, she saw that Ben was standing at the opening in the marquee, his jacket over one arm.

"Come and dance," she mouthed but he shook his head and gestured towards the gardens. The air was soft and warm and the perfume from the flower beds floated up to meet them as Nell's skirts brushed against the blooms. They talked quietly for a while and then, in the white painted gazebo that overlooked the knot-garden, they kissed. For a moment, Nell thought that the final surprise of the evening was a firework display, but then she realised the fireworks were inside her head.

* * *

><p>"That was officially the best wedding ever." It was Monday morning and Nell was still officially on cloud nine, even if she was back at work. She and Ben had spent the rest of the weekend together, getting to know everything about each other. This was one of these rare times when you met someone and instantly knew that they were the one person you had been waiting for, the person who made you complete. She was seeing him again tonight and life seemed to have a new meaning and purpose.<p>

"Maybe Callen and Nico's might be even better?" Sam suggested wickedly.

"Maybe you can think again?" Callen advised him. "This isn't a competition, you know." And he had other things to think about, the most pressing of which was the fact that Nico had woken up with a low, nagging ache in her lower back. Consequently, his cell phone was lying on the desk in front of him, and he kept giving it anxious glances from time to time.

"A watched phone never rings." Sam looked at his partner, who appeared more than a little green around the gills. "Something you want to share with us?"

"There's nothing to share. Yet." Callen looked at the phone again.

"If we weren't two men down already, I'd suggest you take some leave."

It wasn't as if they could even rely on tony and Ziva to assist if a major case came in. Their job in LA finally over now that the labyrinthine tangles of operation Frankenstein had finally been solved, the Washington team had only stayed to complete the final pieces of paperwork before going home later that day. Sam knew they were all anxious to discover how Tim was doing and what prospects there were for any hope of recovering his sight. A few months ago, Callen had been faced with a future of impaired vision, and thought of his partner being side-lined had scared Sam witless. But Callen had Nico, and he also had Sam. Partners could be as close as any other relationship, but Tim was completely different – he worked with Tony and Ziva, but he was not partners in the true sense of the word with either of them. Sam just hoped the man had a good support system in place, because he was going to need it. From all accounts Tim was pretty tight with Abby, the frightening talented goth with a heart of pure gold. Tony had theorised that Abby would have her bowling nuns saying novenas around the clock for her friend. It couldn't do any harm, that was for sure. Tim could do with all the help he could get.

"I'll be fine. And Nico's not due for nearly three weeks. First babies are always late, aren't they?"

"Usually," Sam agreed cautiously. If this was going to go on for another three weeks, Callen would be a nervous wreck at the end of it.

Hetty came in from the courtyard, walking much more slowly than was usual. "Good morning, gentlemen. And Ms Jones." The team compound seemed much quieter than usual, but then that was only to be expected, as she was currently 50% understaffed. There was a subtle air of deflation that seemed to permeate the air, rather like the day after Christmas, when all the presents have been opened and real life begins again. Today seemed very dreary indeed.

"You shouldn't have." Sam looked at the flowers in Hetty's hands.

"I didn't. These are a few tokens from the bouquet: Ms Blye has asked me to press them for her."

She had also asked Hetty to lay the bouquet on Maryanne's grave, which was why she was in rather later than usual. Allison and Gibbs would lay the floral crown on Kensi's father's grave in Arlington later on that day, and were en route even as she spoke. There had been no traditional toss of the bouquet on purpose, not by mere oversight. In this way, her agents were honouring their dead parents, trying to involve them in some small wayfor thBut these were private, family matters, not something to be discussed at work.

"I'll be in my office, if anyone needs me." Right now, Hetty was feeling that the world was flat, stale and unprofitable, and while she would not dream of wishing for another major case, the period of quiet could not have come at a worse time. Still, a day of paperwork, no matter how boring and tedious, was a necessary evil.

Back in Malibu, Tony and Ziva had packed up their belongings and were taking one last walk around the gardens.

"I think I could live in California," Ziva reflected. "It reminds me of home." She was starting to miss the sunshine of Israel, the dry heat of the desert.

Tony looked at her curiously. Having grown up on the east coast, he pretty much regarded California as somewhere that was great to visit, but somewhat removed from reality. "In a house like this?" The mansion brought back so many memories of his own childhood: living on a grand scale, with memories of the past that inhabited every room. Although at least Deeks' mother hadn't insisted her son sleep in a four poster bed.

"Too big." Ziva's own childhood homes had been large and comfortable, but not on this scale. "But definitely somewhere with room for a family." She looked at him challengingly.

"A family?" Tony wondered what sort of a father he might be. Better than his own parent, he hoped, although that would not be difficult. Anthony DiNozzo senior had possibly the world's most casual approach to child-rearing ever. If Toy wasn't being shoved off to boarding school or summer camp, then he was being left in hotel rooms while his father pursued his own agenda. "I don't want to fuck-up my kids," he admitted.

"We will do what our fathers did not." Ziva had previously had a dutiful relationship with her father, but in more recent times she had come to appreciate that he regarded her as an asset, or a chess piece to be pushed around the board, a subordinate that moved to his beck and call. Eli allowed no personal feelings to intrude into his relationship with her: none at all. He was all business, all of the time. Love, devotion and loyalty were a one-way street with him. That realisation had initially made Ziva feel like a medieval princess, married off for the sake of a political alliance and it had played no small part in her decision to become an American citizen. She wanted the right to control her own destiny.

"Have you ever thought about how many NCIS agents come from seriously messed up backgrounds?"

Tony and Ziva's own childhoods had both been unorthodox, but they could perhaps be described by a charitable onlooker as being the recipients of benevolent neglect; Tim had clearly never been quite good enough for his father and had never managed to overcome his inferiority complex, although he was making strides to be more confident at work, while Kensi's childhood had been relatively normal, that had all changed when her father was murdered when she was just 15. Callen's background was the stuff of a Dickensian novel, with missing identities and labyrinthal plots going back decades and as for Deeks – the twists in his family story were positively Byzantian. Even Gibbs had been estranged from his own father for over twenty years. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became: NCIS attracted people who were serious fucked up, and then it started to sort them out, so that they became normal functioning human beings. It didn't make sense and he couldn't begin to explain how it worked – but it happened. It definitely happened.

"Not Sam." Ziva had a good deal of admiration for the ex-Seal. He brought quiet confidence and great insight to the team and was a man she would work with again in a second. Sam also proved that you could be married, raise a family and be an outstanding agent. He had it all. Maybe she and Tony could be like Sam?

"Sam's the exception that proves the rule. He leads a normal life because he is normal." It was time to get this conversation back on track, he thought. "So - could you see yourself living in Washington – with me?" Tony wasn't quite sure he was ready to make too many changes in his life right now, but he did know that he wanted to make one major change. Life without Ziva at his side had suddenly become unthinkable.

"I could see myself living anywhere – as long as I was living with you." Somehow, they would figure things out together.

* * *

><p>"Two weeks in Paris." Callen whistled softly. "This is going to be a hard return to reality."<p>

Sam looked at him incredulously. "You actually think they saw anything except the inside of their hotel room?"

"This is Paris we're talking about. The city of lovers? Kensi will have dragged Deeks around the streets."

"They'll have snogged on every street corner." Sam sniffed curiously. "G, you really need to get this car valeted. Did Bobby bury one of his dead seagulls in the trunk or something?"

Callen opened the windows wide. "I was beginning to think it was my imagination. I was wondering if he'd peed on the upholstery or something." They'd both been concerned that the dog was pining for his master, and had taken Bobby and Crosby for several trips to the beach.

"It's much worse than pee." Sam took a deep breath of fresh air. As the father of two, he knew only too well what stale urine smelt like.

"Thanks for that. You've really cheered me up." There seemed to be a pall of unrelieved gloom around the Mission for the past week: Hetty had been withdrawn and almost morose, while Nell had plunged from euphoria into deepest despair when Ben had disappeared as suddenly from her life as he had entered it. And Nico was still pregnant. Her pregnancy seemed to have been going on forever.

"Anytime. And you might want to consider buying some air-freshener next time you stop at a gas station." The turn-off for LAX was right ahead, which was a blessing, as the car was smelling riper by the second.

"You really know how to make me feel good."

"That's what partners are for." Sam knew Callen was feeling the stress of those last few days of pregnancy. For everyone's sake, he just hoped the baby came soon.

They strolled leisurely towards the arrival gate, grateful that for once the flight was on time.

"You reckon Deeks knows how to ask for coffee in French now?"

"Nothing surer. And Kensi knows how to charge her shopping to his credit cards."

"She's probably got her own cards now."

"Do we have to start calling her 'Deeksette' do you reckon?"

"Or maybe 'Deeksella'?" Callen pondered this briefly. "No, she'll always be Kensi." He hoped so, at any rate.

"Marriage changes people, G."

"It doesn't have to." He and Nico wouldn't change just because they were married, would they? Callen didn't want anything to change, because he'd finally found what he had been looking for over the course of so many long and lonely years.

"It changes for the better. Believe me." Sure, the Hannahs had money worries – huge money worries, if he was honest, the sort that kept him awake at night, but apart from that, everything was better than Sam had ever dared to dream of.

"I'll get back to you on that." Callen refused to be drawn any further, and was relieved to see Kensi and Deeks finally appearing, along with a luggage cart that was piled up high.

"The shops in Paris must be empty."

"Paris and New York," Deeks said with a wry grin. "We stopped there for a couple of night in each direction."

"I didn't buy that much." Kensi took a guilty look at the luggage.

"I don't think there was a day went by that she didn't buy something," Deeks confided.

"So I'm a woman and I like shopping? So sue me."

Callen listened to the familiar bickering and realised that absolutely nothing had changed and was profoundly grateful for that. "Did you do anything other than shop?"

Kensi stared at him. "We did everything. A cruise on the bateaux mouche on the Seine, trip to Verasilles and sightseeing all around Paris." She sighed happily. "It was wonderful."

"It was pretty great." Deeks smiled at the memories. "And Paris wasn't too shabby either."

"Maybe we could go back for our anniversary next year?" Kensi wheedled.

"Maybe we could. Or maybe we could go to Venice and then to Rome?" They started to walk out of the terminal, leaving Sam to push the cart, which was surprisingly heavy.

"Venice!" Kensi sounded ecstatic. "I've always dreamt of arriving in Venice by boat, at sunset." She was barely back in the US and here she was planning another trip to Europe and that was completely insane. Except that it had been so wonderful to finally be alone together, far away from the pressures of work and what had seemed at times to be the omnipresence of the team. Just to be able to be themselves had been magical.

"The rich are different," Callen whispered and then realised that Nico was pretty wealthy in her own right too.

"Yeah." Sam pressed down on the handle of the trolley and put his back into pushing. "They have more money than the rest of us." And that did make a difference, no doubt about it. Still, he knew that Kensi and Deeks would have gladly given all their money away in a heartbeat, if only it could have saved their baby, which put everything into perspective.

Callen pressed the trunk release function on the key fob and watched in astonishment as Kensi and Deeks leapt backwards in unison. "Very funny, guys. What's your next party piece? Synchronised target shooting?"

"No joke." Deeks took another look in the trunk and then pulled Kensi away. "You might want to come take a look, because someone's put a DB in your car."

As Callen got closer, he could smell the sweet, fetid scent of decomposition and hear the faint murmur of insect activity that had previously been obscured by the engine of the car.

"Sweet Jesus."

Finally he knew why Ben appeared to have dumped Nell – the poor guy was in the trunk of his car and by the looks of things, he'd been dead for at least three days.

* * *

><p><em>Evil plot bunny is back with a vengeance.<em>  
><em>The Washington team will definitely appear back in this story in the future - and Abby may also turn up too. But there's a bit to go before that happens, so be patient!<em>


	12. Chapter 12

"You know him?" Deeks had caught sight of the expression on Callen's face as he looked at the corpse and had seen the spark of recognition there.

"Not really. But Nell did." Callen had to move away from that awful smell. It was something you never, ever got used to, no matter how many times you encountered death. A choking, cloying sweetness, rank with undertones of decay, it seemed to seep into your clothes, into the fibre of your being, as if serving as a reminder that death was inevitable, that you could not cheat time, no matter how hard you tried. In the end, you could not hide and death would find you.

All the wonder and joy of the honeymoon seemed to dissipate in that instant, as he related the few brief days of happiness Nell had enjoyed and her obvious excitement and joy, followed by her devastation. At least they now knew that he hadn't run out on her, although that would be cold comfort and absolutely no consolation at all.

"This is coming back down to earth with a vengeance." Kensi could only imagine how Nell would react to the news. Everyone around her was moving forward with their lives, and just when Nell thought she had it made, it turned out that the taste was not so sweet after all. And Nell deserved to be happy, to find that someone who made her life complete – everybody did. Was it really asking so much – to want to be happy?

Sam pulled out his cell. "Eric? We've got a problem."

"Kensi and Deeks decided to stay in France?"

"Worse than that." Sam's face was set and immobile as he briefly relayed their gruesome discovery. "Do not say anything to Nell, understand?"

"Trust me on that one." Like he wanted to be the one to ruin his partner's life, Eric thought. He wouldn't have the first idea how to go about breaking that sort of news with any degree of tact or diplomacy – he dealt in facts, in absolutes. His job was to relay information and to seek out new sources of information and he was great at that. He was even better at working in the hidden corridors of power, of finding back doors that lead to secret repositories of information, the 'haunted attics' the authorities pretended did not exist. And if all else failed, he could simply pull the plug and stop the information flow. That was actually pretty great, like being in total control, only Hetty rarely allowed him to use this power. Still, just knowing he could do it, that he could literally break the internet was a buzz.

Facts and information were simple – Eric could deal with those. Even when the facts were horrific, like right now. But emotions – they were completely different. Emotions scared Eric, because they were uncontrollable and worked outside facts and logic. He tried to stay away from emotion and he'd been doing a pretty great job until George came along and opened him up to the possibility of love and sharing the rest of your life with someone. Together they had voyaged to places Eric had never even dreamt of. He was still coming to terms with how powerful emotions could be, how they could make a rational man who dealt in absolutes turn weak with just a simple glance.

Emotions were invidious. It was becoming almost impossible to stop the gradual build-up of ties between his personal and private lives these days, like some neural network that kept growing. That inter-dependency was slightly worrying. Eric had been a loner for many years, leading a virtual life I the solitary confinement of his room where he had hacked away to his heart's content and for years his only relationships had either been online, or casual encounters and one-night stands. And then everything had changed in an instant when he joined NCIS. For the first time in his life, he was not only working within the bounds of authority, he was accepted and welcomed. That was fine. It was more than fine – it was great. And then it started to get complicated when he started to make bonds with the team. That had to be viewed as positive, but it was also negative. It was hard to stay detached and dispassionate when you cared about the people involved, when you realised the bullets were directed at real flesh and blood, that people you cared about could get hurt – or die.

Things had taken another step when Nell had joined NCIS: OSP. At first he had tried to keep her at arms length, but Nell had been persistent, had refused to take 'no' for an answer. She'd just persisted and after a while, Eric had stopped resisting. She was probably his closest friend, the woman who knew him better than he knew himself in many ways. Nell complemented him perfectly, and if he'd been straight, Eric might even have fallen in love with her. Nell deserved to be happy, and he didn't want to be the one who broke her heart. Hetty could have that particular pleasure.

"Eric's going to take care of the details." Sam joined the rest of the team, who were standing a discrete distance away from the car – and carefully upwind. "I don't suppose you bought any duty-free alcohol, did you?" The sun had to be over the yard-arm somewhere in the world and after seeing what death had done to Ben, Sam felt in need of a drink.

"Sorry – we barely made it to the airport on time." Kensi gave Deeks a significant look.

"Enough information already." Sam really didn't need to hear any more. He could well imagine why they'd been delayed. Just wait until they had a family – they'd look back on these blissful, childfree days at laugh at how free they had been back then. Mind you, Kensi and Deeks would be able to afford round-the-clock child care without thinking twice, so maybe it would be different for them, just as so many things were when you didn't have to worry about money. The rich really were different – they were cushioned from the everyday worries of life. Some times Sam thought that Deeks didn't know he was living, because he had everything he wanted.

And then he remembered. Sam mentally retracted all of his uncharitable thoughts, as he remembered that if things had been different, then right around now Kensi and Deeks would have been waiting for the birth of their child. Denise had taken a series of photographs of them at the wedding, holding baby Callie and looking down at her adoringly. He knew how much pain lay behind those smiles. So what if he was running on less than four hours sleep a night and wondering how he was going to manage to pay the bills each month? Sam had two healthy children and that was a prize beyond anything. There really were some things that money could not buy. And no amount of money could save you from heartbreak.

Just when Sam was beginning to think the day could not get any worse, it did. Someone up there had clearly decided that the fortnight of inaction while Kensi and Deeks were on honeymoon was well and truly over and that real life was to return with a vengeance. It started innocuously enough, with a call to Deeks cell.

"Hey honey! Yeah, we're back. And we got you the best present ever. No, not Godiva chocolates, even better than that." His face fell almost comically. "You're kidding me? Please say you're kidding me, Nico?"

That got their attention as effectively as any three-minute warning.

"We're at LAX. No, it's not a problem. We'll be with you as fast as we can. Just hold on."

"You want to share that?" Callen asked, trying very hard not to jump to any conclusions, but at the same time wondering why Nico had called Deeks.

"Yup, I'll share – but later. We're going to have to get moving. Anyone see a patrol car around?" Deeks was searching around frantically. Taking callen's car was out of the question, but LAPD were usually well in evidence around the terminals of LAX, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to hitch a lift. "Sam – can we leave you here? That was Nico and she said the baby's coming – and coming fast."

Grabbing hold of Callen's elbow before the older man could say a word, he started to sprint back to the terminal building.

"Do not lose that luggage, okay?" Kensi warned and then took off after them.

"First babies take ages to come! Everyone knows that!" Sam bawled at their departing back, but to no avail. Great. He was left here with a pile of luggage and a dead body. And he'd be the one who was left with all the paperwork too.

"Shit! Where are the cops when you need them?" Deeks couldn't believe his eyes. Here they were, with no transport and no sign of a friendly patrol car.

"Cab. We'll get a cab." Callen started towards the queue, only to be pulled back.

"Cabs can't break the speed limit without getting pulled over," Deeks reminded him. "You want to be getting a traffic violation when your baby's being born?" Just then a patrol car appeared, so he didn't bother waiting for an answer, but just threw himself into the road, gesticulating wildly.

"Marty! Be careful." Kensi had a vision of herself as a grieving widow after 2 weeks of marriage and it was not an attractive proposition. Luckily, she was spared the sight of a large Deeks-sized hole in the windshield, as the officer braked sharply and Deeks dashed round to the window. He appeared to be doing some fast talking, along with a quick flash of NCIS ID, because after less than a minute, they were being beckoned forward.

"Nico's in labout?" Callen had gone ashen, despite the dash across the parking lot.

"That's what she said. And I don't think she was kidding." Deeks looked at him in concern.

"Why did she call you?"

"Maybe because she was afraid you might be driving and crash the car? Or pass out?" That looked as if it might still be a distinct possibility.

"I'm fine." Callen said unconvincingly, and then breathed in deeply. "Why's she not going to the hospital?"

"Because the paramedics said the baby was coming too fast." LAPD were doing them proud, cutting through the traffic at warp speed and with sirens blaring. 2It wasn't safe to move her and they'd deliver the baby at home."

"Sam said first babies are always late. And that labour goes on for hours."

Deeks looked at him sceptically. "And you believed him? Sam says a lot of things."

"We'll be there soon," Kensi said consolingly. This was so not how she'd imagined her return from honeymoon.

"We'd better be." Callen knew his life would not be worth living if he missed this.

"Ten minutes at the most." Deeks brought up their home number on his cell and then handed the phone across. "Why don't you talk to her?"

It had seemed like a great idea, and talking to Nico calmed Callen down, right up to the point when she yelled so loudly that he thought his ear drum might just have ruptured.

"Can you go any faster?" Deeks asked, having heard the piercing shriek. Half of LA had probably heard it too. It was beginning to look as if ten minutes might be too long.

"The paramedics are there, aren't they?" The last thing Kensi wanted to do was to arrive at Callen's house to discover that she was supposed to take charge, purely because she was a woman. What she knew about giving birth could be written on the back of a stamp, with room to spare. She was pretty sure there was no need to boil water though – unless you wanted to give a nervous father something to do.

"Oh yes." One of them was talking to Callen right now, trying to calm him down, but with little success. Callen looked as if he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Deeks hoped that when they arrived, he and Kensi could keep a discrete distance away from the scene of the action. Nico was his oldest friend, but there was no way he wanted to have to watch her give birth. No way at all. He'd never be able to look her in the eyes again.

When Callen finished the call, he leant back against the seat and closed his eyes. "I'm going to be a father." It was only just beginning to sink in that the baby was really on the way.

Kensi decided that this was a good time to change the subject, in the vague hope of distracting Callen's attention for a few moments. "Killing Ben and then putting his body in your car makes it look awfully personal."

"How could you not notice?" Deeks asked curiously. "I mean, he was pretty ripe."

"We did notice," Callen protested. "Sam moaned about how bad the car smelt the whole way to the airport. And the body definitely wasn't there yesterday."

"Why kill Ben in the first place? The guy was a student, you said? Doing some hospitality work at weekends? Why would anyone want to kill him?" It didn't make sense, Kensi thought. Unless Ben had some dark past. But Hetty would have checked that out – she was very protective of Nell, especially since she'd been framed and then arrested.

"Think about it," Deeks said slowly, as the puzzle pieces started to slip into place. "There's one common factor to all of this: our wedding. Ben was working at it, and that was where he met Nell. Callen was a guest. And Tad was killed on his way to the wedding. Two deaths – one common factor. Our wedding."

"Or you," Callen reminded him. "You could be the link."

"Bugger." Hetty's bad language was catching. Deeks looked across at Kensi. "Welcome back to reality, Mrs Deeks. It's probably not too late to get an annulment."

"Dream on." Kensi reached across Callen and took hold of his hand. "You are not getting rid of me that easily. We're in this for the haul. For better, or for worse, remember?"


	13. Chapter 13

That reminder of weddings just set Callen back to thinking about Nico. "We should be married," he muttered. "It's not fair to her. Or the baby."

Kensi looked at him pitying. "And this has only just occurred to you? Callen, you've had months to think about this."

"I know. But it's difficult."

"Tell me about it. I thought Kensi would never say 'yes'. I had to ask her three times before I finally got an answer."

Marty could remember it so clearly, like it was only yesterday: how nervous he'd been, the way Kensi had reacted when he proposed - all three times, and then how they'd made love, right there in the living room, in broad daylight, when anyone could have walked in. Actually, Callen and Nico had walked in, but luckily that was after the main event, so to speak. And then that evening, joy had turned to sorrow and he thought he'd lost Kensi for good, when she was stabbed.

"I was in shock," Kensi protested. "I just never had you pegged for the marrying sort."

Kensi remembered that day so well, and how she had been convinced that Marty still had unresolved feelings for Nico. The proposal came as such a shock that she'd actually fallen off the sofa when he'd produced the ring. And they'd been happy for such a short period, a mere matter of hours before their whole world was rocked to the core and turned upside down. A few days later, Kensi had asked him for time to think about their whole relationship.

But that all seemed like a lifetime ago, because so much had happened since then. The marriage had symbolised the start of a new life together, where nothing that had happened in the past mattered as much as what would happen in the future. Anything was possible now, together they could do anything they wanted. They might even try for another baby…

"I want to marry Nico – and she wants to marry me. But it's complicated," Callen protested.

"Tell me about it!" Kensi looked at him in disbelief. "You don't have assorted relatives to add into the mix, do you?" For a while, it had looked as if Allison Blye would have done anything to try to persuade Kensi not to marry Marty.

"Or a father who reappears from the dead." Marty looked at him. "Although that's actually a whole lot better than it sounds, to be honest."

"Plus, you and Nico are having a baby together. That's the biggest commitment you can ever make, Callen. So what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. And neither does Nico. WE're engaged, if you must know."

Kensi gave him a sceptical look. "Exactly when did this happen?"

"I proposed at your rehearsal dinner. We just didn't want to steal your thunder."

"And what did Nico say?" Marty asked curiously.

"What do you think she said?" Callen was beginning to wonder if they were ganging up on him on purpose. "She said yes – of course."

"Of course she did. And?" Kensi gave him a hard stare.

This was beginning to feel a good deal like an interrogation. "And what?"

"And what's the ring like?" she asked patiently, as if it had been obvious all along and he was just being deliberately obtuse.

"We haven't got round to that yet," Callen admitted.

"And they say romance is dead." Marty took hold of Kensi's hand and looked pointedly at her engagement ring. "Some of us like to take care of these important details in advance."

Bully for you, Callen though. If he'd been able to afford a solitaire diamond, he'd probably have bought one too. "We'll go and choose one together."

"So, when's the big day?" Now that her own wedding was safely over, Kensi found herself looking forward to Callen and Nico's.

"We've not exactly talked much about it." They were still busy getting the house in order and preparing for the baby, after all.

"You've not done much of anything, have you? Apart from get my best friend pregnant in the first place." With considerable relief, Marty saw that they were pulling up to the house and decided their inquisition could finally stop. "Okay, Kensi, we can start to go easy on him now. We've distracted him enough for right now."

As he knew from personal experience, there was nothing like talk of weddings to distract a man. Thank heavens he planned to stay married for the rest of his life, because there was no way he wanted to go through anything like that ever again.

Callen glared at him, but saw the younger man was quite unrepentant. "You'll thank me for this one day, Callen. Really, you will." He exited the car at high speed.

Kensi wasn't quite finished with her friend yet though. "Hetty is an ordained minister. She could make things really easy for you. Cut through all that re tape like a hot knife through butter. Just think about it."

Callen thought about it. He thought about it for as long as it took him to get out of the squad car and then he dismissed it out of hand. They would get married on their own terms, thank you very much. Or, as was more likely, on Nico's terms. It would be easier that way.

Inside, his house was in a state of organised chaos, as the paramedics attended to Nico, who was in the advanced stages of labour. They had planned everything carefully: Nico wanted a spinal block, soft lighting and calming music. She'd made up several CDs of herself playing her beloved Mozart to serve as a distraction. But all these preparations had been thrown to the four winds. Nowhere in Nico's plans had she considered the possibility of giving birth in her newly decorated living room, with Kensi and Deeks in reluctant attendance.

"Here's the father now." Deeks was standing by the window, very carefully looking anywhere but at Nico, whileKensi was hovering her, looking faintly appalled by the whole situation and oddly ill at ease.

_Once more unto the breach_, Callen thought. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be a father. Only it was too late now, and when Nico turned a grateful face towards him, he knew exactly what to do and began to feel a mounting surge of excitement.

"I thought you were never coming," Nico panted. Her face was red and sweaty and her normally immaculate hair was every which way and plastered to her forehead.

"I got here as fast as I could." He grabbed hold of her hand and smiled down at her, hoping desperately that he looked reassuring, rather than scared out of his wits. "Everything's going to be fine." Callen hoped he sounded more confident than he felt and kissed her hand. "I'm so proud of you."

"It won't be long now," the paramedic warned. He had long, floppy dark hair and looked vaguely familiar, Kensi thought. She racked her brains trying to work out where she'd seen him before. They saw so many emergency personnel that after a while they all started to blend together into a homogenous whole. "You got here just in time to see your wife have a baby."

"We're not married," Callen said. "But we're going to be." He wondered why he felt the need to explain that.

"I don't care about that," Nico gasped through gritted teeth. "I just want to get this baby out."

The paramedic moved to take a closer look. "I think you're going to get your wish – the head's starting to crown. Don't push – just pant."

Everyone turned automatically to look when he said that, but Nico was beyond caring, as waves of pain engulfed her and she let out a low moan of anguish and then tried to pant as she'd been taught in the classes. She couldn't have cared less if she'd been giving birth on live TV, because all she could think about was that this baby seemed to be tearing her apart.

"I don't think you should have looked, Marty." Kensi really didn't like the funny colour he'd gone. "How about we go get some towels?" She took hold of his hand and led him out of the room before he caused an unnecessary diversion by passing out.

"We're going to have us a baby here," the paramedic said jovially.

"Tell me about it," Nico snapped and then thankfully inhaled the pain relief he offered. Callen knew from the hours of practice she put in at the piano every single day that Nico had strong hands, but he'd never quite appreciated just what a powerful grip she had. It felt as if she was crushing every single bone to smithereens and he wondered if it would be crass to ask for some pain relief for himself.

* * *

><p>"This does rather answer some questions, doesn't it?" Hetty looked at the crime scene photographs Sam had taken before the ME arrived. "As to Ben's rather mysterious disappearance, I mean. And he seemed like such a nice young man." He'd almost seemed good enough for Nell. There was a special place in Hetty's heart for her young analyst, who often reminded her of another young woman from nearly forty years before. There was no telling how far Nell might go in this business.<p>

"We need this case to be transferred over to us," Sam urged. "Because it's personal."

"I agree." Hetty sighed, wondering how she was going to break the news of Ben's murder to Nell, who was fortuitously on a day off. "I'll get in touch with the Director and start to make all the necessary arrangements."

"Don't forget about Deeks' friend," Eric reminded her.

"I was not about to, I can assure you of that." Age had not diminished Hetty's powers of recall and she still had a mind like a steel trap. "And then I will go to see Miss Jones."

"I could come with you?" Sam offered, knowing how difficult a task that would be.

"Thank you, Mr Hannah, for that kind offer." Hetty knew how much Sam, like all her agents, hated these tasks. "But I am afraid it is one which I must refuse. Some things are better done alone."

Hetty recalled a time, over thirty years ago but still fresh and raw, still so easily recalled, when she had opened her front door to two men in uniform, along with an army chaplain. The pain was still as great today as it had been back then, as was the memory of having to force herself stay in control in front of so many people. It was not until the three men had finally left that Hetty had allowed herself to break down and weep. And Sam had such a big heart, he always wanted to protect his team whenever he could, no matter at what personal cost.

"We'll get started on background research into both men." There was still a chance that both deaths were unconnected, after all: a slim chance, sure enough, but they could not afford to jump to any conclusions. Sam looked at his watch. "We should have heard something by now." He didn't have to elaborate any further, knowing that both Eric and Hetty were as anxious for news about the baby as he was.

"I'm sure Mr Callen will be in touch when he's good and ready." Hetty was still finding it hard to imagine her agent as a father, but then he had been on such a great journey this year – finally meeting the woman who provided the impetus to put his wandering, nomadic lifestyle into the past. More than that, Nico had made Callen actively want to begin a new life on his own terms, a life that would be governed by a shared view of the future rather than dictated by an unknown past.

Sam shook his head. "I'm going to text Kensi." He couldn't stand this waiting; it was almost as bad as when Denise was in labour with first Crosby and then Callie.

"You're as nervous as if this was your own baby, aren't you?"

He had to laugh at that. "No way. You didn't see me then, but I was much worse. Callen practically had to hold my hand on the journey over. And I should have been there for him today."

"Mr Callen will understand."

"I know. But still…" Sam sighed and then had to content himself with firing off a text to Kensi. There was work to be done – there was always work to be done, no matter how much you wanted to be somewhere else. And at least this would take his mind off things. "Okay – Ben Masters and Tad… what's Tad's full name?" He felt dreadful that he didn't know, that he'd never even asked.

Eric consulted the New York Coroner's database, which listed the cause of death as a single gun-shot wound to the head. "Tadeusz Maczek." He gave the words a decidedly German pronunciation.

Hetty's ears pricked up at that. "Maczek?" It wasn't a particularly unusual name, but still, it gave her cause for concern. "Was he any relation to a Kasia Maczek?"

Eric checked. "No trace of anyone by that name."

"Try Katarzyna," she said brusquely, and then spelt it out for him.

"She's listed as his aunt. And she's a surgeon here in LA."

Hetty ignored the enquiring look he directed at her. "I'm well aware of that fact, thank you very much, Mr Beale. Send her details to my phone, if you please." It looked as if she would be paying a visit to an old friend after she had seen Nell. This case was becoming more personal by the second and it gave Hetty a sinking feeling. She left Ops without a backwards glance.

"That was weird." Eric looked a Sam for confirmation. "Almost like she already knew."

"Wheels within wheels. Sometimes you're better off not knowing." Hetty's labyrinthine past was often best left undisturbed, Sam thought. Therein lay madness and the very real possibility of discovering something you really didn't want to know. He looked at his phone and wondered where there was no reply. Sometimes the not-knowing was a killer.

"Go on. I'll take care of things at this end. You know you're dying to."

Sam feigned surprise. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about, Eric? Was there a course in mind-reading I missed?"

"Go on over to Callen's. It doesn't take two of us to do this background work. I'll have everything ready for when you come in tomorrow."

Sam was already on his way over to the door. "I owe you one."

"And I intend to collect. Just make sure you send me a picture of the baby."

The room was empty now, it was just Eric and his computers, and all the databases he could access. This was what he did best, ferreting out information from nooks and crannies, finding the secrets people thought they had secured from prying eyes. Eric had never yet met a system he could not penetrate, but the challenge was what excited him. Soon he was lost in a world of his own as he probed and interrogated. The tragedy of two dead men soon became forgotten as he became absorbed in the mechanics of the search, each piece of information retrieved leading on to another and so on, as all the facts slowly started to appear.

* * *

><p>As Sam pulled up outside the house, Nico was being wheeled out to the ambulance, cradling a swaddled bundle in her arms and Callen was walking behind her, grinning from ear to ear.<p>

"No need to ask how it went." Sam bent down and kissed Nico and took a quick peek at the baby. "Well?"

"We're both very well indeed," Nico said demurely. "But anxious Daddy back there is insisting we get checked over at the hospital." Now she held her baby in her arms, all the pain and anguish was forgotten and she felt as if she was floating on cloud nine.

Callen held his hand up in the air and Sam grabbed hold of it briefly, before pulling him into a hug. "Congratulations, man. To both of you. Now put me out of my misery – did you have a boy or a girl?"

"We've got a baby girl." It still felt wonderful, every time he said it. "A beautiful baby girl." Callen's heart felt so full of love and pride he thought it might just burst out of his chest. The world had never seemed more beautiful or perfect.

* * *

><p>Details of Kensi and Deeks' engagement are in <em><strong>It's Just My Heart Talking<strong>_

Kasia Maczek first appeared in _**Fame: What You Get Is No Tomorrow**_.


	14. Chapter 14

"We've got a baby girl." It still felt wonderful, every time he said it. "A beautiful baby girl." Callen's heart felt so full of love and pride he thought it might just burst out of his chest. The world had never seemed more beautiful or perfect as when he looked at his wife and new daughter. Everything seemed to be infused with new meaning and especial purpose. It was as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment and he could only wonder that nobody had ever sat him down and told him how incredible it would be to hold your child for the first time. It was quite simply an experience that could never be surpassed.

"We've both got daughters?" Sam's grin almost stretched from ear to ear. "Unbelievable. They'll probably grow up hating each other, of course."

"You think my kid's going anywhere near your kid?" Callen punched Sam in the bicep in sheer delight. "I feel like I could go run a marathon right now."

"That's because I did all the hard work," Nico pointed out, a trifle wearily, despite the radiant happiness that shone out from her face.

Sam bent down to embrace her. "Congratulations, Mommy."

For the first time ever, Callen was amazed to see Nico blush. "You wouldn't believe how long I've waited to hear someone call me that," she confessed.

"Get used to it. Pretty soon you'll find you forget you ever had a name of your own." Sam took another look at the baby. "She is so pretty. Of course, she takes after her Mommy." As a two-times father, he knew that all babies are, by definition, adorable, even if only to their doting parents. But this baby was rather sweet, in a pink and rather crumpled way. Already he had forgotten how tiny a new born infant really was.

"Oh, I think she's going to have her Daddy's hair." Nico let one finger brush lightly across the faint fuzz on top of the baby's head.

"How can you tell?" Sam looked at his partner curiously. "He's not got much in the way of hair, has he?"

"Highly amusing. If I wasn't in such a good mood, I'd…"

"What? Challenge me to some one-on-one? You're never going to win, Callen, so just accept defeat gracefully."

The paramedic was clearly growing bored by their well-honed patter. "It would be good to get Mom and baby to the hospital sometime today."

"You ride with your family, Callen. I'll follow in the car and give you a ride back home."

"Don't forget the baby seat!" Callen called, as Sam started to close the doors. His family. For the first time ever he could say these words and know that they were true. It was the best feeling in the world. He had a family at last and he belonged. Never again would he be alone, because at long last G Callen had a family of his own.

Sam stood and watched as the ambulance drew away and then walked back into the house, where Kensi and Deeks were standing with slightly dazed expressions, looking at the chaos that surrounded them.

"That rug is never going to be the same again." Deeks started to roll it up, in an attempt to get rid of at least some of the incriminating evidence.

"The wonder and magic of childbirth not working for you, Deeks?" Sam couldn't help noticing that Deeks looked a good deal paler than normal.

"I don't want to talk about it." Wonder and magic? More like blood and guts and agony.

"He saw rather more than he'd bargained," Kensi informed Sam. "And he's having a bit of a problem dealing with it."

"Excuse me? That was my best friend back there."

"You used to play doctors and nurses, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we were a lot younger and a lot more innocent back then. And the blood was ketchup." Tucking the rug under his arm, Deeks stalked out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Innocent? Is it just me who finds it hard to think of Deeks ever being innocent?" The guy might have a deceptively angelic face, but Lucifer had been an angel too.

"It's just you," Kensi assured him "Although he does have his moments."

"So what are they calling her?"

"Not Samantha, that's for sure." Deeks had heard the crack about his innocence (or lack thereof) and felt he was owed a shot back in return.

"Nico was talking about Constanza, but Callen put his foot down."

"Mozart's wife," Deeks amplified, for Sam's benefit.

"I'm not entirely uneducated.

"Really?" Deeks quirked his eyebrow and was satisfied that the scores were even and his honour had been duely defended.

"Really. And I'm not surprised Callen objected to Constanza either. Like is too short to go through it with a name like that. Although Connie would be quite cute." Sam caught the expression on Deeks' face. "What? You have to think of things like that when yo're choosing a name for your baby. You don't just print out a list and then stick a pin in it randomly. It's important – what you're called. A name says a lot about you."

"I wonder what the lack of a name says about Callen?"

It seemed as opportune moment as any to change the subject. "So – how was the honeymoon?"

"Wonderful," Kensi breathed.

Deeks rolled his eyes. "Expensive."

"I told you not to give Kensi her own credit card. You were warned and now you've only got yourself to blame."

"It got a lot of use. I don't think there was a single day went past that she didn't buy something."

"I bought you a wonderful present, Sam. And Denise too. Plus the children, of course."

"That's alright then. So the shopping was great. And the rest?"

"The rest was great too." Deeks grinned at his wife. "I think we'll always remember it."

"I think you're probably right." Just like another couple, they would always have Paris.

* * *

><p>By the time they had finally arrived at their hotel, Kensi had run out of superlatives. Paris was everything she had ever dreamt of – and then some. She had spent the entire journey from Charles De Gaulle airport darting from one side of the limousine to the other, gazing out of the windows in rapt fascination. Her first glimpse of the Eiffel tower had nearly sent her into raptures.<p>

"All my life, I've dreamt of coming to Paris and climbing the Eiffel Tower – and now I'm actually here"

"And you can climb it – if you want. By yourself. But I'm going to get the lift up, because I've dreamt all my life of coming to Paris with my beautiful wife and I don't want her going home a widow because I've had a heart attack."

"But I'd be such a beautiful widow. And I'm sure they make designer mourning clothes."

"They probably do. But wear them to someone else's funeral – okay? Not mine."

"Fair enough, but I don't plan on ever going to your funeral – because you're not going to die."

"I'm going to die one day, Kensi."

"Not any day soon." Kensi turned away from the window and looked at him beseechingly. "Promise me you're going to start being a bit more careful?"

"I'm always careful. It's just that things happen to me."

"I know. Your father said you were always accident prone – even as a child."

"I had an elder brother. Enough said. You don't know how lucky you were growing up an only child." His face grew solemn. "I don't mean that – Chris was great. I still think about him all the time. It seemed strange not to have him at our wedding."

"There were too many people missing." Kensi slipped her hand into his. "But they were in our hearts."

They settled back and watched as Paris began to reveal more of herself to them, in all her glory and beauty.

"We should come back when the chestnuts are in bloom and all the trees are bearing their candles."

"Wow. That was really poetic, Marty." Kensi looked impressed.

"Not original, I'm afraid. It was something my Mom used to say. She loved Paris – showed me all around. We used to come here all the time when I was kid."

"And now you can show me."

"It's a deal. And we discover new things together. I've never been to the Louvre since they built the pyramid."

"We'll make new memories."

That was what honeymoons were all about, after all. As well as spending long periods in bed. And the bed in the bridal suite was everything any self respecting bride had ever dreamt of – and then some.

"A four poster?" Kensi stood in the doorway, unable to move. "We've got a four poster bed?"

"So it would appear."

"Oh my God."

"We can change it, if you like? Get another room?"

"Don't you even suggest it. This is the most incredible room I've ever seen in my life. And the bed…" She wandered over, as if in a dream and sat stroked the silk cover with something approaching reverence. "This is the most beautiful bed I've ever seen."

"It's not the bed you're supposed to get excited about – but the man in the bed."

"Him I can see any time. Oh my God. Have you seen this?"

Marty flopped on his back beside her and stared up at the underside of the canopy. "I was kind of hoping there might be a mirror up there."

A sharp punch to his arm greeted that remark. "Philistine. It's Aphrodite, Atlanta and Apollo."

"Do all their names begin with the same letter?"

"Idiot." Kensi studied the painting more carefully. "Apollo looks a bit like you."

"Aphrodite looks a lot like you. If you were naked." The hopeful tone in Marty's voice was unmistakeable.

"You've no idea how to be subtle, have you?"

"None at all," he agreed happily.

"Well, you're just going to have to wait until tonight. Because right now, I want to go out and see Paris. I want to go to a café and sit and drink café au lait and watch the world go by. And plan everything we're going to do."

"You're turning me down for a cup of coffee?"

"Bet you thought you'd see the day? The biter is bit." Kensi bounced up. "I'm going to have a quick shower and get changed."

"I'm going to lie here and pout and think of all that might have been." The way he had things figured, there was no need to go out. Marty's own plans revolved solely around this room, and more particularly, this bed.

* * *

><p>The visit to the café had lead in turn to a trip to Notre Dame, which almost left Kensi speechless as the building soared up from L'Isle de la Cite, majestic and yet welcoming, a poetic symphony created out of stone.<p>

"We should move to Paris. I'd even convert."

"Paris is worth a Mass?"

She took hold of his arm and wrapped it around her, snuggling in. "Definitely. But Paris would be nothing without you. Paris is beautiful – but it's seeing it with you that makes it all perfect."

"And you're the most beautiful woman in Paris. Everyone is jealous – just look at them watching us."

"That's because you're kissing me in a cathedral, Marty. They're not jealous – they're shocked."

"Paris is the city of lovers. This is all quite normal."

Still, it had seemed expedient to leave at that point, so they wandered along the banks of the Seine as dusk began to fall and the dark waters began to reflect the lights that went on, one by one. Beside a wall, a small bunch of flowers, bound up in a tricolour ribbon lay on the sidewalk, beneath a bullet hole that marred the stonework and marked the spot where resistance fighter had been shot during the occupation. There was so much history all around them that it was easy to forget that Paris had been occupied, for the city did not speak loudly of that part of her past. But the memories were still there, even if they were unobtrusive. The people never forgot, and still paid tribute to the fallen, over 60 years afterwards. Sometimes, it was impossible to escape the reminder that death was everywhere. Marty shivered slightly, and wondered if he was being overly superstitious, and then decided that it was probably just the change in time zones screwing up his body clock.

"How about we get some dinner and then go back to the hotel?"

"That sounds perfect." Dinner in Paris – on honeymoon. This was the stuff of which dreams were made. And tomorrow they could go shopping. Kensi's mouth began to water as she thought of all the great design houses. But before then, there was tonight. And she had something very special tucked away in her suitcase, carefully swathed in tissue paper, something that she'd bought especially for this first evening in Paris.

"Any preferences?" there seemed to be restaurants offering food from every corner of the globe as they walked along the streets, arm in arm, like so many other people who were out enjoying the mild evening.

"Something typically French." Her own French was decidedly of the schoolgirl variety, but Kensi was confident she could navigate a menu successfully. And she definitely knew how to order champagne. What else would one drink in Paris to celebrate the fact she was married to the most wonderful man on earth?

* * *

><p>"I love Paris in the springtime," Kensi sang, as she walked back into their suite. Not one to be outdone, Marty felt compelled to add his own offering:<p>

"I love Paris in the fall.  
>I love Kensi more than anything<br>When she's wearing nothing at all."

"That doesn't scan." It was not exactly in tune either, but then that was possibly the champagne.

"Which just goes to show you can't have everything." Marty sat down on the bed and patted it invitingly. "Well? How about it then?"

"They warned me about this, you know. My friends. They said 'just you wait till that ring's on your finger, Kensi. That's the beginning of the end. No romance, just wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

"I never whammed. And I'm pretty sure I never banged either." He kicked his shoes off. "You'd have told me if I banged, wouldn't you?"

"You get my point. Which is why I'm going to make sure it never happens. You are going to be romantic, whether you like it or not."

"They warned me too, you know. They said 'just you wait, Marty. Once Kensi's got that ring on her finger, she's going to lead you a dog's life."

"And what did you say to that?"

"Woof woof."

"Good boy. Now, you stay right there."

She disappeared into the bathroom. By the time she finally emerged, the room was lit by a multitude of candles and the bed was covered in rose petals.

"Welcome to Paris, Kensi. Welcome to our new life. This is where is all begins."

Marty was standing by the windows, holding out a glass of champagne and in the distance the Eiffel Tower was lit up like a slender beacon, shining a pure white light.

"I'll drink to that." She glided forward, and the silk of her full-length negligee shimmered in the candlelight.

"Wow. That was worth waiting for."

Made of the finest, most transparent silk in a pale rose, the gown clung to every single curve, emphasising and enhancing her body. Kensi's hair was pinned back quite simply, with just a few tendrils escaping to curl around her face and her eyes shone more brightly than any star.

"You like it?" One hand lifted up the skirt invitingly.

"I love it."

This was what he'd been waiting for his entire life, Marty thought. Everything he had ever wanted was right here in this room.

"Come here." He put down the champagne and held out his arms.

"I thought you'd never ask."

As Kensi drew closer, he could see that the gown was so sheer that it was diaphanous, and that the top was made of the most delicate lace imaginable and barely contained her breasts.

This was where it all began: their new life together. Nothing could possibly touch them, as long as they had one another and their love. They would always have Paris – and each other.

* * *

><p><em>Ah - Paris. Possibly the most beautiful city in the world. And where I spent my own honeymoon. I think I'd rather have the one Kensi and Deeks are going to ahve though! Expect randy plot bunny to pop up soon!<em>


End file.
